


Don't Let Me Down

by cakeby_thepound



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, Denial of Feelings, Drama & Romance, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Richonne - Freeform, Some Dasha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 20:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4639689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeby_thepound/pseuds/cakeby_thepound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"To love at all is to be vulnerable." – CS Lewis.<br/>It takes a series of unfortunate events for Rick and Michonne to understand exactly what that means. </p><p>(Richonne. Timeframe: S4 – S5, remixed.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stay With Me

**1 - Stay With Me**

A weight lifted from his shoulders the second he heard her whistle. She was back. She was safe. She was alive.

He immediately stood from his crouched position, where he had been listening to Hershel's sermon on effectively nurturing plants.  _Things break, but they can still grow_ is what he'd said, just before Rick's attention was snatched away.

Rick turned for his son, his adolescent face relaying that he heard the sound too, and was just as excited as his father that their friend had made it back home. "Let's go," he directed Carl towards the front of the prison yard, where they would open the gates for her.

It took a concerted effort every time, but they were able to release the doors, allowing Michonne to gallantly ride through on horseback. She looked happy to return to what was now her home. And generally speaking, she was. She had been gone for a month, and the time away had taken its toll on both her body and her spirit. She needed to see her boys again. Her unspoken wish was granted as she hopped off her horse to find their smiling faces running towards her.

"Glad to see you," was Rick's greeting to her. He never really knew what to say when she returned from these trips, so he tended to keep it simple and honest. He was glad to see her.

"Glad to see you too," she answered, making sure to look him in the eye. It sounded flirtatious, but she meant it genuinely. She turned for the younger Grimes, who had taken to her horse, and grabbed the stash of comic books she collected for him out on the road. "Somebody hit the jackpot," she grinned, handing over his gift.

"No way!" Carl's baby blue eyes scanned the books as a smile took over his face. "Awesome! Thank you."

"I get to read 'em when you're done," she winked, amused by his excitement. She grabbed the other souvenir she'd found for his father, and handed it over. "And I found this," she told him, presenting him with an electric razor. She watched him accept with confusion and then a smile. "Your face is losing the war," she offered jokingly.

He nodded at her antics, but he was more concerned with how much time they would have together. It was never much. "You gonna stay a little while?" He wasn't going to beg her, but he hoped his eyes relayed the fact that he really wanted her to.

"Just a little while," she quietly promised.

The two of them stood side by side as Daryl and his mini entourage came rolling down the driveway. He couldn't help but smirk at the two of them, standing there all awkward and clueless, but more than anything, he was happy to see Michonne in one piece.

"Didn't find him," she revealed in reference to her search for the bane of their existence, The Governor. "Thinking of looking over near Macon." She could see that Rick was obviously dismayed by this news, but Daryl didn't seem so gung-ho about it either. "It's worth a shot," she added defensively.

"Seventy miles of walkers. You might run into a few unneighborly types," Daryl prophesized. "Is it?"

 _Isn't it_ , she thought. She had made it her mission to find this man, so it had to be. But she didn't want to end up in an argument about this within her first five minutes back at home, so she conceded.

Daryl went on to explain that he was headed on a supply run, offering Rick a spot if he wanted to take it. But Michonne knew he wouldn't, because he never went more than a couple of miles outside of the prison anymore. That was her job now.

"I'll go," she volunteered before things could get too uncomfortable.

Carl had been listening to the entire conversation as he walked Michonne's horse up to its stable, and he was none too pleased with their decision. "You just got here!" he contested.

She turned to him with a reassuring smile, but made sure to catch Rick's eye, too. "And I'll be back."

* * *

It was close to midnight when Michonne found herself trudging across the empty prison yard, headed for the guard tower. It was noisy out there, due to the walker buildup, but she found it oddly peaceful. Maybe because it was nice to hear something other than her own thoughts.

"Hey, gorgeous."

She smiled at the sound of Rick's voice, pulling her from her random musings, and looked up at him. He stood against the rail of the guard tower, staring down at her with a smile, looking sexy as ever. "You talkin' to yourself?" she smirked.

"I missed you," he returned, ignoring her compliment.

"Not enough to come with me on the run today." She was teasing – she knew why he didn't. But a small part of her hoped he would change his mind if she went. They rarely had a chance to be together away from the prison. Even if it was with six other people.

"You're really gonna try and guilt trip me right now?"

"If it works," she grinned.

"Get up here," he nodded towards their little hideout for the night. "I saved you some dinner."

"Aren't you sweet." She quickly bounded up the steps, where Rick met her at the top with a pleased look on his face. His eyes averted her though, and she knew he was scanning the yard for people. "No one's out there."

He looked back to her, satisfied with her answer, and pulled her in for a kiss. It was soft and seductive, causing her knees to buckle once their tongues touched. Perhaps it had just been way too long, but her body had obviously forgotten what a good kisser Rick was.

"I think you really did miss me," she chuckled as they came up for air.

He gave her another quick kiss on the lips. "I did." He then took her hand into his and led her inside. "Come on."

Inside the tower, where Rick had been waiting for nearly an hour, there were two comforters on the floor, as well as a sleeping bag, then the infamous orange backpack, which was full of supplies like water, crackers, ammo, books. It was an apocalyptic overnight bag, for all intents and purposes. Across the room, at the small desk in the corner, sat a plate with a sandwich on it. Somehow, he always knew when she hadn't eaten. But that was probably because she typically forgot to eat anything other than breakfast, unless he reminded her.

"You're too good to me, Grimes."

"I'm sure you'll make it up to me, Dillard."

That was certainly what she had planned. But in the meantime, she sat down to her sandwich while Rick watched her. It was a BLT, made with lettuce and tomato from his own garden, which made her smile. She did her best to keep her mind off of the cute little pig that had to be slaughtered for the bacon. "You ate?"

He nodded, leaning against the tower door with his arms folded across his chest. "But I saved room for you. Don't worry."

She bit her lip in anticipation. He always said things like that, and she felt the heat rise in her face every single time. "Hershel said you weren't feeling so great, but I guess that's not true..."

"I'm all right."

"You sure?"

He'd just watched a woman kill herself, and it reminded him that for a while, he'd been headed down the same path. He was rattled. But he always felt better when Michonne was around. "I'm sure."

She took a few big bites of her sandwich before responding. "Good."

"How about you?" he asked quietly, almost unsure whether he wanted the answer. "You were on your own for a  _long_  time."

"I'm used to it," she shrugged nonchalantly. "In fact, it's a little easier when I know I have a place to come back to."

"Not just wandering aimlessly," he nodded in total understanding. He recalled when she talked of her days before finding Andrea, how she would just roam the woods, killing walkers and trying not to die of starvation. No real reason to live, and plenty of reasons to just give up. "I'm glad to hear it."

"You know I'm doing this for a reason, right? That I'm not just running away?"

"Of course," he offered a slight frown, reassuring her that he got it. He didn't like it, but he got it. "You're doing what you think is right."

"But you don't agree with me," she knew. Rick and Daryl seemed intent on making her feel guilty about this, without really even trying.

"I didn't say that." He moved across the room to close the distance between them, standing behind her as she finished her meal. He let his hands fall to her bare shoulders and began to gently massage away the obvious tension in her body.

Her head fell back, resting against his torso as she let herself melt into his touch. He obviously didn't want to discuss it any further, so she didn't either. "That feels good," she sighed softly as she moved her hair out of his way.

Pleased with her reaction, he continued down her back as he leaned in to kiss her neck. He closed his eyes at the sensation, her smooth chocolate skin tasting just as lovely as he remembered. "I think I missed this the most," he whispered, his southern accent suddenly in overdrive. His fingers slowly slipped down her shirt and inside her bra, playing with her nipples as his lips continued across her collarbone.

Michonne could feel herself getting wet from just the feel of his tongue on her skin. She needed this. She needed him. Badly. She only had to glance up at him for a moment and he knew exactly what she was looking for. The two of them were on the floor, tearing off one another's clothes within seconds.

Both of them on their knees, Rick was bent over her body, licking along her beautifully muscular back as his hands roamed over her breasts and then palmed her backside. He reached around her front to dip his fingers inside her, but paused when he felt the soft curls covering her pussy. "So you want me to shave, but you don't do it yourself?"

She looked back at him, in disbelief that this was what he chose to focus on in this moment. "Really, Rick?"

"I just think it seems like a double standard..."

This was another thing he always seemed to do – making her laugh in their most awkward and intimate moments. She was starting to believe that if she didn't laugh at least once during sex, something was wrong. "Tell you what," she offered breathlessly, turning her body to lie on her back and face him. "When you shave up here, I'll shave down there."

"Fair enough," he couldn't help but grin as he stared at her picture perfect tits. He went on to finger her with one hand, stroking his own dick with the other as he prepared to enter her.

Michonne spread her legs wide, impatiently awaiting the feel of him inside her. It came slowly and teasingly, at first just the tip of his cock, rubbing against her clit. Then he penetrated her hot center for only a moment before pulling out. He had a sly smirk on his face, knowing he was driving her crazy.

"Do it," she growled.

Her wish was his command. He pushed inside without any more hesitation and began to pump steadily, her breathing and moaning to every thrust. Her favorite thing about fucking in the guard tower was that they didn't have to be quiet, and she was sure to prove it.

"Oh god, Rick," she whimpered loudly as her nails dug into his shoulders. His stroke was driving her out of her mind, and she could feel herself on the verge of an absolutely sublime orgasm. This was exactly the welcome home she was looking for.

* * *

A few hours later, the two of them were still wrapped up in one another. Michonne was using Rick's back as a pillow with her arm draped across his bare waist. She could feel the sweat underneath her face, being stuck to him for so long, but she didn't care to move. She probably even needed the contact, just to feel normal again. It wasn't until she realized what time it was that she thought of removing herself from their position.

"Hey." She attempted to wake him by lightly slapping his ass. When he stirred, she lifted herself from his body to search for her clothes. "I'm gonna head back."

"Right now?" he frowned. He had also been enjoying their closeness, especially after having gone so long without it.

"It's gonna be morning soon."

"Yeah…" He contorted so that he was on his side now, and grabbed her hand, holding it over his chest. "But what if we just stayed here?"

"Really?" she asked, somewhat surprised. They'd done this many times, and he never asked her to stay. In fact, he was the reason she was so careful in the first place. He was clear that this was for the two of them only.

"I'm not ready for you to leave yet," he confirmed with a small nod. "Stay with me."

She didn't know what this meant, if anything, but she was quite happy to do exactly that. "Okay." With her hand still cradled in his, she cuddled up to his back and wrapped her leg around him, enjoying the warmth of their naked bodies so close together. Nights like this were why all those days alone were okay.


	2. The First Day of Our Acquaintance

**2 – The First Day of Our Acquaintance**

_6 months ago._

Rick had just returned from a perimeter check and was sitting on the steps outside of the tombs, enjoying the fresh air of the evening, when Michonne happened upon him. It was cold, so she hadn't any plans to stop and talk, but he spoke first. He had started to do that lately, she noticed – stopping to chat. It was usually about nothing, which she was beginning to enjoy, but today, she wasn't particularly in the mood for it.

"Where've you been all day," he greeted her as she appeared at the bottom of the steps. He stood from his seat so that she would be able to get by.

"Wandering," she answered simply.

"Wandering?"

"Through the woods, just seeing what's out there. Or who's out there, I guess."

He nodded in understanding. She was a loner, by her own design, so he hadn't pushed her to be any more a part of the prison than she wanted to be. But her disappearing without telling anyone was getting old to him. "Well you missed dinner, but I'm sure we could rustle up some leftover squirrel for you."

"I'm fine," she smirked, heading up the steps to go inside.

He watched her as she passed, as he often did. The way her katana always hit the back of her thigh amused him, for some reason. But something about her ass just insisted on drawing in his curious blue eyes. Sometimes, he didn't even realize he was staring at it. "You don't seem fine," he told her cautiously. He had to get it out before she could disappear.

"Excuse me?"

"Okay, no, you are fine," he corrected himself, feeling nervous suddenly. "I mean... it seems like you might be a little... down."

She frowned back at him, unsure whether he was extremely good at reading her, or just transferring his own feelings onto her. Either way, it wasn't something she wanted to probe at the moment. "I'm fine," she repeated, a little more forceful this time.

"I don't mean to offend you..."

"You didn't."

"I just..." He sighed. He didn't know whether he wanted to continue. "Have a good night, Michonne."

She sighed this time, frustrated with the fact that he was being so suddenly timid. From the way he spoke to her when she first arrived, she knew he wasn't intimidated by her, not the way most men were. Why couldn't he just spit it out? "What is it, Rick?"

"It's nothin'."

"It's obviously something that's got you sputtering like a little kid."

"You've been gone all day and now you're in a bad mood," he finally revealed his issue. "I just wanna know what's goin' on."

"What's going on is that I have no desire to sit around here, acting like everything is fine. We could die tomorrow, at the hands of that man, and you people are more worried about Christmas dinner than your lives."

It was his turn to be offended. "'You people?'" he repeated, walking up to meet her at the top of the steps. The space was small, so he essentially had her pinned against the door. "So you just kinda live here? You're not one of us?"

"Is that what I said?"

"That seems to be what you're saying," he nodded. "Yes."

"I just don't want to get comfortable. Comfortable gets you killed."

"And what's the point of being alive if you refuse to live, Michonne?"

She swallowed hard, trying to think of a response. But it was hard to do that with Rick so close. He tended to get right in your face when he was making a point, and this was no exception. "I just want to find him."

"I know you do." He backed off a little when she seemed to be softening her stance. "But that doesn't mean you don't get to enjoy things in the meantime."

"I don't  _want_  to enjoy things."

"Why? What does depriving yourself do for you?"

She closed her eyes, admitting to herself why she was so determined to stay hardened to the world, and even more tragically, the people at the prison. "It keeps me safe."

"Because you cared about Andrea, and now she's gone," he knew. "I get it."

"It doesn't seem like you do."

"I do," he assured her softly. His breath created a puff of cold air that encircled both of their faces. "I have bad days. A lot of them, honestly. And it's this place, these people, that keep me going. You people are the reason I'm still standing."

She smirked at his use of her term, but avoided his gaze, looking down to the ground. Their feet were so close, she was surprised their bodies weren't touching. "Can I go inside now?"

"You could've gone inside five minutes ago," he shrugged.

She nodded, but didn't move. She stood with her back against the door, not even worried about the fact that anyone could come bursting out of it at any minute. She felt emotionally drained, and her body felt stuck as a result. She just stood there, staring at their boots.

"You all right?" he wondered when she hadn't left her spot.

She nodded again. "Just finding my bearings."

"You don't strike me as someone that would ever lose them."

_If only that were true_ , she thought to herself. In fact, she nearly stumbled when Rick's hand reached past her hip for the door handle.

Noticing her odd reaction, he pulled back. "I'm not tryin' to seduce you. I just wanna get inside."

"Then say, 'Excuse me.'"

He went for the handle again, this time deliberately brushing her hip as he did. "Excuse me."

She stared at him now, wondering if he was attempting to flirt with her. There had been a couple of times in their short history where she honestly wasn't sure, but then figured he probably wasn't if she had to ask herself. But now? He had clearly touched her on purpose, and his eyes seemed to be daring her to say something about it. "You're excused," she returned, removing herself from his path.

He knew she wouldn't take the bait, but a part of him hoped she would surprise him. He went on in, holding the door for her so that she could follow. As soon as they were inside the tombs, he pushed her against the nearest wall and demanded her gaze. "Can we just get this over with?"

She had been avoiding whatever 'this' meant for months now. Maybe even since the day they met. There had been a tension between them that they'd been trying to ignore, but Rick was obviously done with it, and she was, too. Perhaps this could be the one thing she enjoyed without being racked with guilt. She nodded only slightly in reply to his question before pulling him in for a kiss. She hadn't kissed anyone in a while, so when she went for his lips, it was sloppy and ungentle. It was awkward. Her lips bumped his teeth, and she wasn't sure what to do with her tongue before they found their rhythm.

Rick's hands moved swiftly, the two of them silent as he pulled off her belt and unbuttoned her jeans. She bit her lip in anticipation, her eyes on the ceiling as he crouched to the floor to help her to step out of her pants. They still didn't speak using words, only their tongues wrestling mercilessly with one another. Rick's body was pressed against her now, and she could feel his rock hard dick nearly digging into her pelvis. She could tell he wanted her, even if it was just because she was the nearest vagina available. And the feeling was mutual.

She waited impatiently for him to loosen his own belt buckle, and soon, his pants and drawers were around his ankles. He grabbed the underside of her ass to hoist her up against the wall, letting her long, strong legs wrap around his waist. He then pushed her panties to the side before thrusting into her roughly. Michonne gasped at the sensation, surprised by not only the force, but the tightness. Granted, she hadn't had sex in over a year now, but Rick filled her completely, and the feeling was almost akin to her very first time – gloriously painful.

He hadn't seemed to notice though, and was pumping steadily, enjoying the delicious pleasure of her hot, wet pussy surrounding him. It had been so damn long, and he never got the opportunity to just blow off steam like this. Maybe the lack of sex was why he went crazy in the first place. Everyone needs some kind of release. And this sex wasn't about the two of them getting to know one another better. It wasn't about sharing some intimate emotional bond. It was a primal need both of them had been suffering from. It was urgent and intense, and it showed in the pace of their breathing. By all accounts, the tombs were freezing at night, but the heat between them completely quelled that. It was like a sauna.

"Rick..." Michonne moaned out loud, unsure of what she wanted to express beyond that. She felt so good, for the first time in a long time. She felt alive. But being pinned beneath his thrusts, she also felt helpless. She felt vulnerable, and she didn't like it. She wrapped her arm around his neck and willed herself to come quickly.

"Oh fuck," Rick grunted as he felt himself reaching his climax. He probably should've asked before they fucked, but he hoped she was on some kind of birth control. Because he didn't hold back in the least, letting himself spill into her violently. He wouldn't have been surprised to find out she was pregnant by morning.

Sated, she slowly slid off of him and they immediately began pulling their clothes back on, preparing to return to their regularly scheduled programming. Michonne was headed for the door the second her katana was slung across her back again, but Rick's voice halted her as he snapped his holster back into place.

"Hey."

She turned to face him, but was nervous about what he would say. She didn't want this to be a thing they had to address. It was obviously something they both needed, and nothing further needed to be said. "Rick, I don't need to be courted," she stated plainly. "We're at war. Fucking and fighting is just about all we have. We don't need to talk about either one."

"Okay," he chuckled, resting his hand on his gun.

"I don't mean to be crass. I just–. "

"No, I like crass," he nodded, with a small smile. "I even like the arrogance that told you I wanted to sit here and have a discussion about it. But I was just gonna say that you know where to find me if you wanna do it again."

"Right." If her face could turn red, it would have. But she played it cool and simply bid him a good night, keeping to herself that he'd most certainly given her a good one. "Looking forward to it," she smirked as she turned back for the door.

"Does this mean you're gonna stick around for longer than a week at a time?"

"I didn't say all that, Grimes."

He smiled at the sight of her walking away, just as amused by it as he was her cocky demeanor. He liked her. "It's not fair you get to call me by my last name and I don't even know yours," he called after her.

She laughed to herself, but didn't turn around, so as not to show her hand. He didn't need to know that she was charmed by his antics. "It's Dillard," she declared quietly, just before disappearing into their cellblock.


	3. Come And Put Your Name On It

**3 – Come And Put Your Name On It**

_4 months ago._

"Good god," Michonne huffed as she slid herself from Rick's body. She fell into the floor beside him, her torso heaving up and down as she tried to catch her breath. "That was the kind of orgasm you feel in your chest."

Rick laughed tiredly as he bit his bottom lip. He wholeheartedly agreed, and almost couldn't believe how simultaneously exalted and exhausted he felt. "How are you so good at this?"

She loved the sound of his voice after they had sex. If he had a swagger about him before, it turned to straight arrogance afterwards. His voice was dripped in it, all low and husky. She couldn't even focus on his question.

"I'll take your silence as a sign of humility, and not that you're ignoring me."

"Forgive me," she offered a bright smile before turning her head away from him. "I'm still in recovery."

He sat up on his elbows to look at her. Her whole body glistened with sweat, and it was such a beautiful sight. Her delectable chocolate skin in its endless form of curves and edges always kept him captivated. He had never realized the joys of a nice ass until he came into contact with what was probably the nicest one he'd ever seen. Michonne's was perfect. When she stood in front of him, he always felt the urge to bite it. It was like a perfect Georgia peach.

"I guess we should finally get what we came for?" She hopped up from her spot and began to retrieve her clothing, throwing his at him when she saw he hadn't moved. "We have to be back before dark," she reminded him.

"Says who," he sighed, pulling on his underwear.

"Says the guy who doesn't like being away from his kids after dark."

"Oh yeah, I do have those two to get back to," he joked with a playful smile. He untangled her bra from his jeans and threw it to her. "I'm sure Carl was more than happy to get a break from me today."

"Probably." She actually knew it for a fact, which was why she encouraged this little run in the first place. But she wasn't going to tell Rick that. "But you needed a break, too."

"What makes you say that?"

"Everyone needs a break now and then," she shrugged.

"That's a far cry from the woman two months ago, telling me she didn't wanna enjoy anything."

"I guess something changed my mind," she winked at him.

He nodded as he finishing buttoning his dark plaid shirt. "Well while we're handing out compliments, you're the only break I need."

She smiled in reply. She held out his gun belt so that he could reclaim it, while he grabbed her sword from the door she'd rested it against, handing it over to her. "Thank you, sir."

He couldn't get over how much he enjoyed these moments with her. It wasn't just the sex, which they'd had a lot of, and was certainly satisfying, but it was the smallness of a well-timed smile that reminded him how much he liked her.

Side by side, the two of them exited the abandoned home they'd used for their rendezvous and surveyed the neighborhood. They were on a mission for prison staples – ammo, baby formula, batteries, lighters, and most importantly, toilet paper.

"Where do you wanna start?" Michonne looked to Rick.

"This is your mission. I'm just along for the ride," he shrugged with a smirk. "Tell me what you want me to do."

"Quite a change from the guy I was just sitting on top of."

"Very funny," he chuckled. "And you definitely weren't just sitting."

"You got me there," she had to concede. She led him to the house next door, having noticed a playground set in the backyard. She figured it would be as good a place as any to check for anything Judith could use. As they approached the front of the home, she glanced over the rocking chairs that sat on the porch, covered in cobwebs. "Is it weird if I find myself judging people's decorating?" she wondered out loud, just before kicking in the front door.

He knocked against the nearest wall a couple of times, waiting for walker noise before answering. "It's a little weird," he answered, looking over to her. "But I make up entire lives for these people based on their homes, so what can I say?"

They cautiously continued through the home, making a deliberate ruckus and then pausing for any type of reaction. When they received none, they immediately headed for the kitchen, where they tended to find most of their loot. In this case, a slumped over corpse sat solitarily at the breakfast table. A gun was on the floor next to it.

Michonne blinked a couple of times, trying to shake away her sympathy for the person. They'd chosen to give up for whatever reason, and she didn't need to waste her feelings on them.

"That could've been me," Rick proclaimed quietly, also seeming to have found some compassion for this stranger. "When I got out of that hospital and walked in my house and found my family was gone." He shook his head.

She was always curious about Rick's story and finding his family. She'd heard bits and pieces, here and there, about him being shot in the line of duty and waking up to this mess. She couldn't even imagine. But for him to have found his wife and child in the chaos that was Atlanta must have been quite a feat. The more she learned about him, the more intrigued she was. The more she liked him. "What stopped you?"

"Lori had taken the family albums," he chuckled wistfully. "I mean, I'm glad she did, or I probably would've thought she was dead. But she took pictures and she took clothes. I knew she and Carl were out there, and I was gonna find them."

"So you just went after them on blind faith…"

"What else could I do?" He stooped down to pick up the gun, examining the chamber to see how many bullets were left. He glanced at her, and without any other words, he added it to his bag.

* * *

"Hey." It was about a quarter after 10:00 when Rick peeked into Michonne's cell to see if she was there. The kids were tucked in, and he was ready to call it a night himself, but he wanted to say good night to her first.

"Hey," She looked up from where she was lying in bed and smiled at him. She scooted over so that he could have a sliver of the twin-sized mattress if he wanted it.

"I wasn't gonna stay..."

"Not even if I want you to?"

His blue eyes dropped to the floor for a moment of contemplation before landing back on her. He wasn't sure why she wanted him there after they'd spent the entire day together, but he realized he was more than happy to stay. He sat down at first, gauging how much space he had, and then swung his feet up so that he could lie down. The bed was small, so their bodies and their faces were close.

"Before I forget," he yawned, "Carl wanted me to thank you for his new shoes."

"Well that's a cheap trick. Why couldn't he thank me himself?"

"I'm sure he will. He just knew I was gonna see you first."

She pretended to eye him suspiciously, but decided to let it go. Besides, Rick was the one that knew he needed new shoes. She was just better at finding such things, which was why she was always on the run, so to speak. "Next time, I gotta find some comic books or something. We've exhausted nearly everything in the library."

"You two," he chuckled in amusement. He couldn't put into words how much he appreciated that she had taken to him. She was better with Carl than he was.

"Us two?"

"You two have been thick as thieves lately. And I appreciate it."

She contorted so that she was on her side, facing Rick with a smile. He didn't have to thank her, but she accepted it all the same. "So have you and I."

"And I appreciate it," he chuckled adorably. "For more reasons than just the obvious."

"And what's the obvious?" she narrowed her sultry brown eyes at him.

"The physical part," he retorted in a whisper.

"Oh, so this isn't just about sex?"

"I mean…" His eyes scanned the top of her bunk as he searched for the right answer. "No, not completely."

"Good to know," she smirked.

"You thought it was?"

"I didn't think about it," she shrugged. "Maybe because it was easier not to. So I didn't have to worry about being alone in whatever feelings I came up with."

"But we've been fuckin' for two months. How could you've not even considered it?"

"I mean, we're friends, we obviously care about each other." She pushed a stray curl from his face as she spoke. "I never needed to explore anything further than that."

Here he thought his feelings, whatever they were, were mutual. "Well all right."

"Funny enough," she went on, "I was out in the yard with Tyreese the other day, and I got the distinct feeling he was flirting with me. And I couldn't help but think of you."

Rick's entire body visibly tensed at this anecdote. "What do you mean by 'flirting?'"

"I mean, nothing extreme," she shrugged again, grinning. "He was talking about how much I must work out, and how it was nice to see me back at the prison again. Even though I had only been gone maybe two days."

"He touch you?"

"What?" she laughed. "No, Rick. It was all very innocuous. He might not have even known it sounded suggestive."

"And what made you think about me?"

"I dunno, you just kind of flashed through my mind. Probably because he kept looking at my ass, too."

"What?" he immediately sat straight up, staring down at her. "You can't just throw something like that in."

"Calm down, crazy. I'm kidding."

"No, you're not."

"Lay back down," she chuckled, shaking her head. "Either way, it's not a big deal, and it's not something you get to be mad about."

"And why not?"

"Oh, you're gonna try and put your claims on it now? After you're the one that said I could do whatever and whomever I want?"

"I said that at the beginning of this. Yes," he admitted, as he fell back into the bed. "But you've only been doing me since then, so…"

"Who told you that lie?" she simpered.

"I'll give you every Cup O' Noodles I own if you can name one person you've even thought about screwing besides me."

"You know you'd give me all your noodles anyway. All I'd have to do is ask."

He enjoyed that she knew that about him. "So what you're saying is that you don't have an answer."

"What I'm saying is… if you don't want me to screw anyone else, just say it."

"Fair enough." He stared at her face for a long time, trying to decide what he liked most about it. He eventually came to the conclusion of her lips, mainly because he knew what they were capable of, but her eyes were a very close runner-up. She was too beautiful for words. It didn't even make sense that he was able to pull her in the first place.

"To answer your question, I've seriously considered what Daryl might be like in bed."

And all of his upbeat thoughts came to a cease at the sound of her admission. His eyes locked back on hers. "Why would you say this?"

"You asked."

"You're evil," he joked with raised eyebrows. "You don't tell a man you wanna fuck his best friend."

"Then why did you ask!" she hissed.

"Because you seemed smart enough to not have an answer!"

"Well you seemed smart enough to not ask questions you don't want the answers to."

"I knew I shouldn't have stayed," he sighed. "I was on my way to bed…"

"Don't be such a baby," she playfully kicked his boot with her bare foot. "Besides, I had my chance and didn't take it, so I obviously didn't want it that badly."

He laughed as he closed his eyes at all the information she was sending his way. "You're just full of surprises tonight. When did this chance occur?"

"Just… on a run a while back."

"That is suspiciously unspecific…"

"It was before you and I ever did anything," she promised with a smile. "The opportunity presented itself while we were stuck in this cabin, but in the end, I just wasn't feeling it, and neither was he, I suppose."

Rick hated even thinking about Michonne with someone else, but his mind couldn't help but wonder why they didn't go through with it. He was certainly glad, but he also knew it didn't really make sense to him. Like she'd said, fucking and fighting were the main things they had to fill their days. Especially on a run.

"You're not mad, are you?"

"No," he frowned, shaking his head. "It's kind of funny, kind of weird."

"That would be our lives in a nutshell, wouldn't it?"

"Truer words…"

They fell silent for a moment, and Michonne turned so that she was lying on her back again. She loved how comfortable she felt, so close to him. She didn't know what they were, and honestly didn't care about labels and titles, but she felt like the tides were certainly turning to something more serious. When she arrived at the prison, she never thought she would find any kind of relationship waiting for her, but she was slowly but surely learning that the universe was quite keen on surprising her.

"Hey, Michonne?" His voice was quiet and unconfident. He was almost scared to say what he wanted to say, not wanting to be met with rejection.

She kept her eyes closed as she answered. "Yeah?"

"I don't want you with anyone else."

And there it was. She smiled to herself as she intertwined her fingers with his. "All right."


	4. The Upheaval

**4 – The Upheaval**

"You're lucky you missed it," Carl declared as he took his seat across from Michonne and his sister. He had just collected his breakfast of stale cereal, complemented with fresh strawberries from the garden, and was sharing the details of his previous tumultuous night. "I think we counted over seventy walkers."

Michonne shook her head, feeling a bit of agony for her boys as she thought about what that must have been like. She held Judith close to her, feeling bad for not having been there. She was helping the prison in another way, and she knew that was important too, but it was obvious Rick could've used her help there. "It was just you and your dad, huh?"

"It was so fucked up," he nodded as he took a bite of his food.

She looked at Judith with widened eyes as she playfully gasped, and then fixated on Carl. "Are you kidding me?"

He looked up at her, confused. "What?"

"Watch your mouth!"

"Oh," he rolled his eyes dismissively. "My dad doesn't care."

"First of all, I doubt that's true," she quirked an eyebrow at him as she stole a strawberry from his bowl. "And second of all, I care."

"You do?"

"Yes," she returned as if it should have been obvious. "I do. And you definitely shouldn't curse in front of your sister."

Carl shrugged. "I figure with all the shi- excuse me – stuff she's gonna see in her lifetime, an F-bomb isn't gonna do much damage."

That actually did sound like his father's logic. "Maybe so," she offered him a small grin. "But maybe we keep her innocent for as long as we can?"

"Cool with me," he shrugged again.

"It's obviously too late for you, but there may be a chance she can be a kid until she's at least five or six."

"Oh, that's messed up," Carl laughed as he noticed his father walk into the cafeteria. They both smiled at him but continued their conversation. "It's too late for me, huh?"

"You already know too much," she smirked. She finished her strawberry and left the stem on an empty napkin. "How come you didn't bring Judy any fruit?"

"Well she's allergic to strawberries, and she doesn't like apricots, so… we kinda just stick to the formula and that rice cereal."

Michonne nodded. She had already given her the rice for the morning, but figured she could use something in her diet that wasn't white. "Maybe for dinner tonight, we can puree some of those carrots or peas your dad's got out there."

"I've tasted those peas," he made a face at the mere thought. "Judy definitely would not like that."

"Oh, whatever. You don't know her life," she teased him.

"I know my sister," he answered looking down at the infant. "She likes water, she loves oatmeal, she's definitely a morning person, and would rather you leave her alone after like five o'clock. She likes when Beth sings to her, but she cries when I do it." He shook his head as he recalled the last time he tried to sing her a Foo Fighters song. "Also, she'd rather play with garbage than actual toys, so I don't know. She's weird."

"Obviously runs in the family," Michonne stuck her tongue out at him. She saw Rick in the background talking to Hershel, and wondered if he was revealing to him that he'd banished Carol from the prison. In the few minutes she spent with him overnight, she knew it was weighing heavy on him.

"Do you think you'll really be here in five years?" Carl wondered as he finished off his cereal.

"What?" she frowned, refocusing on the young man in front of her.

"You said we should give Judith a few more years to be a kid. I was asking if you think you'd actually still be here in five more years."

"Do you think you'll be?"

"If things stay like this…" He looked around the room, dotted with his new friends and family, eating food, laughing, relieved that people were recovering from the sickness that had just spread throughout the prison. "I could see it."

"Then why would I leave?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "You seem to like leaving."

She frowned again, almost offended this time. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, sometimes you're here for a while, but then you go. I just wonder if one time, you'll decide to not come back."

"Carl..." Her face softened considerably, and she repositioned Judith so that she was no longer climbing all over her, but sitting in her lap. "I will  _always_  come back to you, okay?"

"And my dad?"

"And your dad," she grinned warmly at him before looking down to Rick's daughter. "And this little lady, too."

"Cool."

"We good?"

"I just… I know that I want you to always come back. I can only assume Judith would. And I know my dad does too, so it's nice to have confirmation."

"How do you know your dad does," she chuckled.

"Because he cares about you."

She felt a light flutter in her chest at the idea that Rick had spoken to Carl about her. She didn't think their relationship had gone past clandestine status, but maybe she was wrong. "He tell you that?"

"No, I just know my dad." Well so much for that, she thought. "You, Hershel, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie. Everyone we consider family. He cares about what happens to you guys. You're all we have."

She couldn't pretend she wasn't disappointed that Rick hadn't actually spoken to Carl about her. But she very well couldn't be mad that she had people to call family. And she didn't actually need the kid to tell her that Rick cared about her. She knew that. "Like I said, you don't have to worry about me not coming back." She saw Rick approaching as she finished her statement, and flashed a bright smile at him. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear."

"Mornin'," he grinned back at her before ruffling Carl's hair. "I was gonna let you sleep in this morning and here you are, already up."

"Are you kidding? I could barely sleep," he answered, looking up at his father. "Michonne stopped by to say she was taking Judith to breakfast, I decided to go with them."

Rick nodded and then looked back at Michonne and his daughter. "Thank you for taking her, by the way." He moved to her side of the table to retrieve his baby, but she declined.

"Don't be coming over here disturbing our mojo," she joked. "We're fine over here."

"You babysittin' today?"

"Oh no, I was still gonna take her to Beth." She moved over so that he could take a seat beside her. "I just mean you don't have to do it."

"What were you two talkin' about," he inquired as he accepted the proffered seat. "Some comic book or another?"

"We were talking about you," Carl piped up excitedly. "And Michonne."

"Me and Michonne?" he sputtered nervously. His eyes landed on her, wondering why she would do something so odd as to discuss him with Carl. "And where did that conversation lead you?"

"Absolutely nowhere," she promised, shaking her head at his obvious discomfort. "I was just telling Carl that I'll always come back to you guys."

"And I was just telling Michonne how she and everyone else here are really important to you, and you need her here just as much as you do everyone else."

"I'd say that's accurate," Rick nodded, now avoiding her gaze as he tried to regain his composure. "More than accurate."

She had to laugh to herself about the fact that Rick had no poker face whatsoever. And so, a secret they would stay, obviously. "Should we head outside and assess the damage?"

"Yeah, I guess we should," he sighed. "There are a bunch of dead ones that need to be taken out back."

"You talk to Daryl yet?" Michonne asked, looking at him.

"Not yet." His apprehension about it was palpable. "I think he's probably outside already."

She nodded. "I'll handle the bodies then. You do your thing."

"You sure?"

"I'm quite sure."

"I'll take Judy to Beth," Carl offered, wanting to be helpful. "Then I'll meet you outside, Dad?"

"Sounds good." He watched Michonne stand from the table to bring Judith over to her brother. He was starting to realize he loved seeing her with his kids more than anything, but he quickly left those thoughts behind as he stood up as well, prepared to start his day. As he passed behind Michonne, he discreetly gave her ass a quick tap and smiled back at her as he headed out of the room.

* * *

Michonne and Hershel had been at the back of the prison for the better part of an hour, burning the many walker bodies that Rick and Carl put down the night before, as well as a few Daryl had to take care of overnight.

"It's a wonder all that gunfire didn't draw more of 'em in," Hershel commented, wiping his hands on his pants. Handling walkers was quite a messy job.

"It's only been a few hours," she noted. She poured the last bit of gas across the pile of corpses and looked at him tiredly. "Who knows what's coming next."

"You're right about that. Might be a herd forming even as we speak."

She pulled a lighter from her pocket and grabbed a small plank of wood from the flatbed. "Let's hope not," she grinned. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"No, you go right ahead," he smiled back at her. He took note of how calm she looked, and almost… happy to be there. He didn't know Michonne extremely well, but liked to think he'd gotten a pretty good handle on her in the time she'd been living at the prison. He liked watching her transformation, from this truculent misanthrope to an active member of their little community. "I'm proud of you, Michonne."

She looked up from her task with a half smile, half frown. "For what? This is the easiest part."

"I don't mean this," he chuckled. "I mean what you've done all these months, opening yourself up, being a part of this family. I'm very proud of you."

"Oh, well…" She shrugged, trying not to think of Rick being the reason for that. She had done it herself, and she did deserve credit for that. "I appreciate you guys letting me in."

"It's the hardest thing in the world, isn't it? Trusting people?"

"Especially nowadays," she agreed. "Sometimes I wonder what I was thinking."

"How do you mean?" he wondered, leaning against the trunk of a tree to get out of her way.

"I mean, when I came here. I just sort of let myself be taken in. Maybe because Andrea trusted you guys so much?" She lit the corners of the pile on fire and then stood back as well, so that she could face Hershel. "It almost felt like I knew Rick and everyone before I even met you."

"I think it goes deeper than that. You know, I felt the same way about Rick. I couldn't figure out what made me innately trust this man, but it was just there."

"Something in the way he talks," she smiled to herself. "It's soothing."

"Feels like he's honest," Hershel laughed lightly. "I remember him running up to my house with Carl in his arms. Seems so long ago now. But I remember thinking how dire the situation had to have been for him to trust me – a complete stranger – with his son's life. And I guess that's kind of where we all are now. We have to trust people, because we don't have a choice."

She had to laugh because he was so right. But then, Hershel was usually right, and she'd learned that in spades in the past few months.

"So how long you think you and Rick'll keep pretending you're not together?"

She found herself gasping lightly and then laughing at the question as it registered in her head. "I don't know what you're talking about," she grinned sweetly.

"Okay," he nodded knowingly. "It'll be our little secret then."

"Is it that obvious?"

"No, I don't think so," he assured her in that slow, comforting drawl of his. "Rick told me a while back and I've noticed it since then, but I'm not sure I would have otherwise."

"Rick told you?"

"He did."

"What did he say?"

"We should head on back," he proclaimed, turning to grab their gas cans. "I'll tell you on the way."

She was quick to oblige, as the smell of the burning walkers was becoming overwhelming. She started off towards their car, parked just a few feet away, but only made it a couple of feet before she was knocked out. Hershel grabbed his gun as quickly as he could, but found himself standing before The Governor holding his own weapon. He dropped his pistol, as directed, hoping his best chance of making it out of this alive was to do what the man said.

* * *

"It's not up to me! There's a council now!" Rick was yelling, unsure of what else to say. "They run this place!"

The Governor had a sly grin on his face, much in the same way he always did, as he asked, "Is Hershel on the council?" A few seconds later, Hershel Greene was being pulled to his knees in front of Rick and the others. "What about Michonne?" She followed suit, her hands tied behind her back, looking like she wanted to spit blood. "She on the council too?"

He stared in silence for a moment, wishing for this to be some awful figment of his imagination. His breathing became heavier as he came to the realization that it wasn't. "Goddamn it, Dillard," he whispered to himself.

He wanted to throw up. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. Why was she there? How did The Governor get the drop on her? That wasn't like her at all. Why was this happening? He had no choice but to walk down there and try to get them out of there alive. He had no idea how he was going to do it, but he had to try.

He looked back at Carl, saying a silent prayer that he wouldn't have to watch his father die. Not today. Not like this. The kid's bright blue eyes relayed everything Rick was feeling. Fear, hopefulness, confusion, anger, resolve. It was on him to save everyone, and they both knew it.

He trudged down the gravelly driveway, surveying the scene before him. He saw the tanks, he counted the twenty people standing in front of him with their guns aimed, he saw Hershel with his eyes closed, likely praying for a peaceful resolution, but his thoughts remained on Michonne. His hands began to shake when he realized how close he was to losing her. Hell, The Governor could've just taken her and killed her, and he never would've known. There was no telling what this man was capable of. He had to tread lightly here. He couldn't let them die on his watch. He couldn't let her die.

"You let 'em go," he demanded as he reached the bottom of the hill. He tried not to look at Michonne, but his eyes refused to obey. "You've got a tank. You don't need hostages," he told The Governor.

"I do," the man insisted with a nod. "This is just to show you I'm serious. Not to blast a hole in our new home. You and your people have 'til sundown to get out of here… or they die."

Rick could feel his heart beating out of his chest. He knew there was no reasoning with this man. He knew that they knew it too. "It doesn't have to go down this way," he returned evenly.

As Rick and The Governor spoke, Michonne tried to reel in Rick's focus again, catch his eye so that she could speak to him with just a look, as she tended to do. She wanted to tell him that she wasn't worth it. She wanted to ask him – beg him, really – not to give up the prison to save her life. The moment she realized she'd been captured, she came to terms with the fact that she wouldn't make it out of this alive. But Rick had to, for Carl and Judith. And the rest of these people, a lot of them sick, couldn't afford to lose their home over some vendetta Philip Blake had against her. She closed her eyes, willing him to hear her quiet plea. "Don't do this, Rick."

"We can all…" He stopped to collect his thoughts, and decide whether he really wanted to say this. But he had no other options. "We can all live together. There's enough room for all of us."

"More than enough," The Governor agreed. "But I don't think my family would sleep well knowing that you were under the same roof."

"We'd live in different cell blocks. We'd never have to see each other until we're all ready."

"It could work," Hershel turned to say. He was so proud of Rick for even putting the option out there. "You know it could."

 _It can't_ , Michonne thought to herself.

"It could've. But it can't," Philip echoed her thoughts. "Not after Woodbury. Not after Andrea."

Rick noted the look on Michonne's face at the mention of Andrea's name. He quickly piped back up before she could say something that got herself killed. "Look, I'm not sayin' it's gonna be easy. Fact is, it's gonna be a hell of a lot harder than standing here shooting at each other. But I don't think we have a choice."

"We don't," he smirked. "You do."

"We're not leaving."

In the courtyard, Daryl and Sasha armed everyone in sight with a gun, prepared for a battle. It would be an unfair fight, but they would go down swinging if they had to. "You all right?" Daryl asked Carl, seeing that he hadn't taken his eyes off of his father since the moment he walked down there.

Carl nodded, but his gun was locked and loaded. "Just staying ready."

"This is not gonna end well," Sasha quietly predicted as she sidled up to Daryl's right.

"If anybody can talk this man down, it's Rick."

Sasha looked at him, unaffected. "This is the man that shot down his own people in cold blood. For almost no reason at all."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that, because she was right. This Governor had no rational side to speak of. No matter what he said about taking the prison peacefully and the hostages merely being insurance, Daryl knew that the likelihood of all of them getting out alive was pretty low. He bit nervously at his bottom lip as he tried to think of a backup to the backup plan. "You said the bus ain't got any supplies?" he asked Sasha.

"Not much. Definitely not enough food for everyone," she frowned.

He nodded and then took a deep breath. "This goes south, you aim for The Governor's face," he told both her and Carl. "And those two that got their guns on Hershel and Michonne. You hear me?" They both nodded. "You shoot or you run."

Carl remembered his father saying the exact same thing the night before. This was his life now, it seemed. "Why can't we just shoot him now?"

"What do you think happens if a gun goes off and your dad doesn't know where it came from?" Sasha reminded him. "And all three of them are in the line of fire."

Carl figured his dad would know to get out of there if he saw The Governor got shot, but she was correct – Michonne and Hershel would be killed instantly. So he continued to stand there and watch them talk.

"Oh, shit," she gasped when she saw their enemy hop off of his tank and grab Michonne's katana. He held it at Hershel's neck, looking menacingly back at Rick, as if he were daring him to let this happen.

"Shit," Daryl repeated, now aiming his gun directly at The Governor as well.

Rick was panicked now. "You, in the ponytail," he pointed out a young lady that looked about as terrified as he felt. "Is this what you want? Is this what any of you want?"

The guy sitting on top of the tank was adamant about siding with The Governor. "What we want is what you got. Period. Time for you to leave, asshole."

"Look, I fought him before. And after, we took in his old friends, and they've become leaders in what we have here. Now you put down your weapons, walk through those gates, you're one of us. We let go of all of it. Nobody dies." He couldn't imagine that all of these people were as crazy as The Governor, so he tried appealing to them. "Everyone who's alive right now, everyone who's made it this far, we've all done the worst kinds of things just to stay alive. But we can still come back. We're not too far gone," he promised them passionately. In that moment, he remembered what Hershel so wisely told him – things break, but they can still grow. "We get to come back. I know we all can change." He saw the look of contentment on Hershel's face, he saw the hope on Michonne's, and he said a prayer to the high heavens that his words worked a miracle.

But there was an evil gleam in the eye of The Governor, one that said he wasn't going to allow Rick to win. He wasn't going to let him have the moral high ground. He was going to break this man. "Liar."

Rick could only see red as he watched Hershel get struck in the neck. It wasn't even enough to kill him, but it did everyone else. He couldn't help but scream – not only for the loss of his dear friend, but for what he knew Maggie and Beth had just witnessed; for Michonne, whom he still had no way to save; for the fact that they were inevitably going to lose their home. This was the beginning of an end.

He quickly ran behind an overturned bus to get out of the line of fire, but he couldn't leave without Michonne. From where he was, he could see all of his people scattered across the courtyard, shooting for their lives. He could see everyone but Carl.

"Fuck!" he shouted angrily. He was so unbelievably frustrated and lost. As he tried to figure out his next move, a figure appeared beside him, and he nearly shot it until he realized it was Michonne. "You're okay," he exhaled in relief, briefly grabbing her face. Her face covered in tears.

She shook her head sadly, feeling out of breath and equally as helpless. "We gotta get outta here."

He nodded in agreement. "I gotta find Carl and Judith."

"You find Carl, I'll get Judith."

"Michonne, you don't have to-."

"Go," she demanded, wiping the tears that were blurring her vision. "We'll meet you on the bus."


	5. Gotta Get Up, Life Is More Than Suicide

**5 – Gotta Get Up, Life Is More Than Suicide**

Michonne stood at the edge of the prison courtyard, watching the bus take off without her. It felt like the sky was falling. Her chest was burning, and so were her eyes as the threat of tears took over. Everything was such a mess. She was alone, feeling lost, with nowhere to go and no one to lean on. No one but Judith.

She looked at the baby, contorting in her arms, obviously just as frustrated and confused as she felt. What were they supposed to do? Rick and Carl hadn't made it to the bus, so she had to let it leave. But now she was questioning that decision, knowing that having Judith amid the approaching horde of walkers just wasn't a good idea. They needed to get out of there.

"Where the hell are you, Grimes?" she asked herself, scanning the huge yard for any sign of him. He was supposed to be finding Carl, and the fact that he hadn't resurfaced was beginning to terrify her. He wouldn't have left without her. She knew that much. Or at least, she thought she knew that much.

When she retreated from the prison with Judith, she saw that The Governor had been shot in the head. She wished she could've seen it herself. She probably would've stopped to give the person a hug. But getting the kids to safety was a much more important task, and she was just glad the man was fucking dead. He'd damaged them to their core, but at the very least, he couldn't hurt them anymore.

The walkers, on the other hand, were a different story. They were slowly but surely taking over the yard, and she was running out of ways to hide from them. "Shit," she whispered, pulling her katana from its sheath. She hoisted Judith's bag onto her shoulder, held the baby close to her side, and started to slowly make her way towards the outer edge of the prison. For the first time in a long time, she was supremely nervous as she walked through the throngs of corpses headed for her. If regular adults smelled like fresh meat to them, she could only imagine that the scent of a baby would drive them insane. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she prayed her way through, ready to slice anything that looked at her sideways. "We're okay," she exhaled coolly, talking to both herself and the infant. "We're gonna be just fine."

Her breathing got heavier, the closer they got to the outside. Something about the gates, even broken, made her feel safe. But she was on the cusp of being on her own, and it was frightening. "Just breathe," she whispered.

Either Judith understood the direness of their situation, or she felt the tension in Michonne's body. But just as they reached the end of the prison driveway, the baby began to cry. Loudly. "Shit, shit, shit." Michonne looked back to see a row of zombies turn in her direction. She had no choice but to run.

* * *

Rick hobbled through the empty prison, not entirely sure of what he was looking for. Carl was his priority, obviously, but his common sense told him that no one was left. The entire place was silent as a tomb. And with the way he felt, he wasn't far off from needing one. He and Michonne had agreed to find the kids and then meet at the bus, but his plans were thwarted when The Governor stopped him in the prison yard, holding him at gunpoint. A brutal battle ensued, but Rick managed to get away by shooting him in the stomach before ending him once and for all.

But his wounds were catching up to him. He no longer had the adrenaline of fighting for his life to keep his mind off of the pain. Among his wounds were at least two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and worst of all, a missing son. "Carl!" he called out desperately, only hearing his own echo reverberating in the walls. Soon, the walkers would be following his screams and raiding the inside of the prison. The Governor's tank shot enough holes in the place to make it utterly useless. "Carl!"

Silence.

As quickly as his body would move, he searched their cellblock for any sign of his child. He went to Carl's cell, finding his drawers were empty, his backpack gone. At the very least, he knew he'd gotten out of the place. He didn't know where he'd gone, but at least he was alive. That was a small win in the many, many losses he'd endured that day. The weight of it all came crashing down on him, and he sat down on Carl's bed with a giant, wheezing sigh, letting his tears fall.

It literally hurt him to cry. His salty tears burned when they hit his wounds. And he was so unbelievably tired. Rick wanted to give up. Everything in his body was telling him to just lie down and let the world do what it wanted to him. His family was gone, his home was gone, and whatever faith he'd had left in the world had just been shot to hell by a military tank. What was the point anymore? To keep pushing forward in a world constantly trying to pull you back was nearly impossible.

But then, giving up wasn't an option either. Not when he knew Carl had gotten out. Not when he saw that Judith was gone, along with her bag, which meant Michonne, or perhaps some other kind soul, had gotten her out as well. Just as he'd searched for Lori and Carl at the beginning of all this, just as he forced himself to keep moving forward after Lori died, he was going to make himself get off of that bed and find his family.

He wiped the tears and the anguish from his face, said goodbye to what had been Carl's room for the past 8 months, and started to gather his own supplies. Water, flashlights and batteries, food, any bullets he could find. He gathered everything with the assumption he would be finding Carl and Judith soon, so he packed a lot. He made a bag as heavy as his one good arm could carry, and then exited the prison. This was it. Goodbye to his first post-apocalyptic home. The place they'd made for themselves was burning to the ground, and his only choice was to not look back.

* * *

Carl was smack dab in the middle of the prison courtyard, his blue eyes frantically searching through the wreckage for any sign of life. He saw nothing but dead bodies littering the ground, and undead bodies walking his way. His dad was nowhere to be found. Michonne was nowhere to be found. No Daryl, no Maggie, no Tyreese. It seemed that he was on his own.

On the one hand, he didn't see any of their bodies on the ground, which meant they had to have gotten out. What didn't make sense to him was that his dad would've gone anywhere without him. It went against everything he knew about him. But by the time Carl had made it inside to find Judith, she was already gone. So he wondered if perhaps she was the priority, and his dad was trusting him to get out on his own. Could that have been right?

He didn't know what to think, but he knew he had to think quickly. He could see the prison bus headed down the road in the distance, and wondered if he should follow it. But no. Rick would've held Miss Jeanette, or any other driver, at gunpoint before allowing them to drive off without him.

"Shit," he shook his head, realizing that he was at a loss. Their enemies were dead, but where were their friends? Where was anybody? He quickly wiped the tears that had fallen from his eyes, pulled his gun from his holster, and began to maneuver his way through the many, many walkers that had begun to invade the yard. He did everything in his power to not have to use his gun, which was a tall order. But he'd never taken down a full walker with just a knife, and he wasn't sure he could with his giant backpack on. His only advantage here was that he was quick, and he was going to use it.  _You shoot or you run_.

He made it down the gravel walkway as quickly as his feet would carry him. He kept his eyes on the outer gates, knowing that was his first landmark. He had to make it there before he could conceive his next move. And that was how he would get through this. One step at a time. One walker at a time. But he noticed a crowd of them forming, right at the exit to the road, and his heart begin to race. He couldn't use his last bullets this early.

"Shit."

He did a quick count of how many he would have to get through. It was twelve at the moment, but by the time he reached the end of the trail, it could be more than fifteen. He didn't have nearly that many bullets, and certainly not enough agility to take down even half of them.

He couldn't help but wish his dad was there, but even more so, he wished he could see his mom. He didn't miss her often, but when it hit him, it did so in a giant wave, crashing through his brain. It crippled him. And he couldn't afford to be crippled in that moment. He inhaled sharply and looked up to the sky, where he knew she was watching over him. His tears rolled backward and down his neck as he made his quiet plea. "Mom, I don't know what to do. Please just give me something."

He closed his eyes for just a second, waiting for something to will him in one direction or another. And he didn't know whether it was actually his mom, or if fear had shown itself, but since he couldn't shoot, his body made the decision to run. Not towards the pileup that had formed, but in the opposite direction, towards the woods. He ran through the thigh high grass and mud, his vision blurred by tears, past all the arms reaching for him, out of breath, saying a silent prayer that he'd made the right decision.

And his prayers were answered when he paused to catch his breath and found a pacifier on the ground at his feet. He smiled to himself, knowing it was Judith's, and glanced up at the sky again. "Thanks, Mom."

* * *

"You okay?" Sasha asked softly as she noticed that Beth's sobs had come to a cease. They had been sitting on the steps outside of a funeral home, as it was the first safe-looking place they'd come across after escaping the prison. It was also the first chance they'd had to process everything that had happened, and it brought them both to tears.

"I'm okay," Beth returned with a sniffle. "He died so that we could live. So that's what we gotta do."

Sasha wiped her own tear away as she tried to brush away the image of Hershel being beheaded. It was the only thing she could remember about the day, and it played in her mind over and over again. "Your father was a good man," she nodded. "He didn't deserve that."

"Nobody gets what they deserve anymore."

"That's true…"

"But like, maybe it's a good thing he doesn't have to be in this awful world anymore," Beth pondered quietly. "The prison was good for him, but maybe it's good that the last thing he had in his life was a home, with me and Maggie there, and Glenn and Rick were like sons to him…" Her words trailed off into silence as she realized that they were probably dead too.

Sasha imagined Hershel probably died in fear that his daughters were at the end of their lives, but she didn't say anything to that effect. The man did live on hope, and that could've been how he died. That's what she hoped for him, anyway.

"I know I sound crazy," she went on before Sasha could respond. "I guess I'd just rather look at the bright side of this. And not the fact that I have no idea whether my sister is alive."

"Oh god," Sasha sighed. She gently stroked the teenager's head, letting it fall to her lap, as she obviously needed the comfort. They both did, if she were being honest with herself. "I don't know where Tyreese is either. But I do think we were the last three to leave, so… maybe they're alive and together somewhere."

Beth felt a small smile forming on her face. "Maybe they're all somewhere waitin' for us. Maggie, Tyreese, Glenn, Rick, Carl… everyone."

"Maybe so." Sasha never considered herself an optimist of any kind, but she wanted to believe that so badly. It sounded ridiculous in her head, really, but her heart ached for that tiny bit of hope.

"Yeah, and maybe I'm the Queen of England." Daryl's gruff voice of dissent interrupted their bonding session. "Y'all gonna stay out here all night cryin'?"

Sasha turned towards the door, where he stood in the threshold, frowning at his entire demeanor. "So what if we do?"

"It ain't gonna bring any of 'em back."

"Neither is your drinking until you pass out."

"Ain't nothin' wrong with tryin' to numb this shitty ass pain for a night."

"And there's nothin' wrong with us hopin' that our family is somewhere out there," Beth piped up, sitting up to look at him as well.

"Yeah, 'til you realize you ain't never gonna see them again."

"Fuck you," Sasha spat back.

"Fuck you," he retorted with a shaky exhale, eyeing the two of them. He wasn't sure why he had such an incensed reaction to their conversation, but he couldn't stop himself. He was hurt, and he was going to take it out on the nearest person available.

"Look. Beth and I were having a perfectly fine evening out here, and you seemed to be enjoying your whiskey, so… let's just go back to minding our own business."

"Fair enough," he relented, turning to head back into the strange home.

Sasha rolled her eyes as their friend disappeared, then looked to Beth to make sure she was still all right. "Ignore him."

She attempted to nod, but her eyes conveyed nothing but worry. "Is he right?"

"No." She answered so quickly, she hadn't even considered the question. "I don't know," she appended with a long sigh. "Nobody's right. Nobody's wrong. The way we feel is the way we feel."

Beth accepted this as fact, but couldn't help but still feel bothered by Daryl's attitude. "Why is he drinking right now? We need to figure out where we're gonna go from here."

"It's easier than feeling," Sasha frowned. That much, she understood. "We can figure it out in the morning."

They sat in silence for a few moments, gazing at the scenery in front of them. It was a small cemetery, seemingly consisting of mainly one family, from what they could tell. Sasha imagined they all probably died before any of this mess happened, and she couldn't help but think how lucky they were.

"Maybe we should go on in and get some rest," she suggested to Beth. She was starting to feel like she could use a swig of something herself.

"Hold on," she stopped Sasha before she could leave, pointing toward the outer edge of the property. "Are those walkers?"

It was hard to tell in the dark, but it definitely looked like a small group of them, headed their way. "Shit," she shook her head as she stood from her seat. "You got your knife?"

Beth stood as well. "Yeah."

"All right, let's do this real quick. And let's hope there's not a bunch of them following behind."

With a nod, the two of them ran into the yard and began to dispatch the walkers as they so adeptly tended to do. Sasha had quietly taken down three of them with her blade, and had kicked down another one when she noticed that six more were on their way. It was so dark, there might have been even more.

Beth could also see them coming, and immediately wondered, "Should we call for Daryl?"

Making noise seemed like a bad idea, but they certainly could have used the help of his crossbow right about then. She continued to stick and move as she made her decision. "Daryl, we need you!" she shouted loudly.

They began to run for the other small pack when a car came barreling down the road. It was a dark-colored station wagon that went running into Sasha before either of the women could blink.

"Sasha!" Beth screamed when she saw her fall to the ground. She motioned to keep the approaching walkers from touching her friend, but two people hopped out of the vehicle silently – one of them went straight for Sasha, and the other grabbed her. "Dar—" The sound of her cry for Daryl was muffled as the stranger quickly threw her in the back of the car.

Daryl made it outside with his crossbow at the tail end of the chaos. Just in time to see a dark Dodge with a white cross painted on its back window. Just in time to watch it peel away. Just in time to see Beth and Sasha were gone.


	6. Just Because I'm Losing Doesn't Mean I'm Lost

**6 – Just Because I'm Losing Doesn't Mean I'm Lost**

Carl found himself reaching the edge of the woods, unsure of which way to go. He'd followed the footsteps he found in the leaves, but it had gotten dark, and there were no more footsteps to follow. Just the empty asphalt road.

If his dad had Judith, which was the assumption, he would be looking for a place to hole up for the night. Nothing outside, but a nearby home or even a car to sleep in. So he decided to take a right, in the direction opposite the prison, hoping it wouldn't be long before he came across something. Anything. He held his flashlight in one hand, his gun and the other, and moved swiftly. Even if he didn't find his dad, he would have to find some place to stop within the next few hours.

As his footsteps pounded against the pavement, he tried to keep an ear out for any other sounds – particularly that of a walker, or some other nearby threat. What he heard was the unmistakable sound of his baby sister crying. It wasn't loud, but he knew it well, and could tell it was close. He stopped in his tracks, closed his eyes, and tried to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. He had gotten so used to the stillness of the new world, he forgot how loud nature could be. Wind blowing, leaves rustling, snakes rattling, crickets chirping. He couldn't place the cry, so he just called out to it.

"Dad?" He made sure to be clear, but not unnecessarily loud.

The crying stopped and a voice responded. "Carl?" It was a female voice. Michonne's.

"Michonne?" A tear fell from his eye before he knew what was happening. Relief.

"Are you okay?" Her voice sounded cautious. But she was more concerned with the fact that he was looking for his dad.  _He's supposed to be with him_ , she thought.

"I'm fine," he answered quickly. "Where are you?"

He saw two flashes of light, a few hundred feet ahead of him, and he ran towards it as quickly as his body would allow. A small sliver of moon was the only light they had, and it wasn't very helpful in the moment. It wasn't until he was inches away that he could actually see her and Judith's faces. He pulled them both into a hug as wide as his arms, feeling completely comforted in that moment.

Michonne was relieved too, happy to see that he was alive and well. He didn't appear to be devastated or anything, but then, she knew he had a similar detachment when he had to watch his mother die. "Carl, where's your dad?" she asked apprehensively. On the one hand, she wouldn't be able to handle hearing that he was dead, but on the other, she needed to know.

His blue eyes looked up at her sadly. It killed her how much he looked like Rick. "I dunno," he shook his head.

She exhaled and then swallowed hard. "Okay."

"No one was left when I left."

"Okay," she repeated, feeling a bit frazzled. She was thankful Judith had stopped crying, but now that was all she wanted to do. The plan was to get the kids and meet at the bus. Somehow, she ended up with the kids and no bus. And even worse, no Rick.

"What do we do?"

That was certainly the question of the day. If Rick was alive – and she had to believe he was – she couldn't think of a lot of places he would go to look for her. There was only one area close enough to walk that they'd been to together. He was smart, he was quick on his feet. So she had to believe that he would think to look for her there first.

"Okay," she sighed. "You ready to walk?"

Carl nodded. "Are we gonna look for my dad?"

"Or he's gonna look for us." She turned him around and did a quick search through his backpack for anything they might need. She had to pause when she saw one of Rick's shirts and realized Carl had brought clothes for his father as well. She shook her head to clear her mind of him. She needed to focus. "Would you rather carry your bag, or your sister?" she asked him.

"I can handle this."

"All right. Keep your flashlight in your hand, but don't turn it on unless I tell you to."

"Okay."

"We've got a long walk, and you know these things come out at night; but we're going to be fine."

He nodded again, just as a dark Dodge station wagon came speeding down the empty road. It was an odd sight, as seeing other cars on the road was such a rarity, but they thought little of it. It was going much too fast for them to stop it even if they wanted to. "Too bad we don't have a car," he commented absently as they began their trek.

"Maybe we'll find one once we find your dad."

"You really think we'll find him?" he wondered hopefully.

She had nothing but blind faith to go on, but sometimes, that was all you needed. She remembered when Rick told her that's all he had when he found Lori and Carl. So she was going to use the same. "Yes."

* * *

A couple of hours later, in the pitch black of night, the duo were approaching the steps of a house Michonne hoped was still clear from the last time she'd been there. As she turned on her flashlight, she noticed the spot where she'd broken the hinge of the door, and silently hoped that this was as fresh in Rick's mind as it was in hers.

"You stay behind me," she told Carl, handing over Judith. She needed to have her katana at the ready.

He took his sister into his arms, careful not to wake her, and followed Michonne, though not too closely, as she skulked towards the kitchen. He noticed a lone corpse at the kitchen table and felt compelled to poke it to make sure it was good and dead. He noticed that she didn't seem quite so concerned with it. "Have you been here before?" he inquired quietly.

"On a run, not too long ago."

"With my dad?"

"Yes."

"That's why you chose it," he gathered, using his free hand to shine light on the rest of the immediate area.

"It's the last place we've been together, outside of the prison."

Carl nodded, suddenly feeling a bit more hopeful about their chances of finding him. If he was still alive, of course. "How long do we wait?"

Michonne looked over to Carl, but without any idea of the answer to his question, all she could do was shrug. She didn't want to think about it. Because the truth was, if Rick didn't show up by morning, she wasn't sure what she would do. They certainly couldn't wait endlessly. A day, maybe two. But if Rick were alive, where else would he go?

"We'll just do whatever feels right," she finally offered softly.

Carl was okay with this. He had done what felt right and it led him to Michonne and Judith. "I trust you," he intimated seriously. "Whatever you want to do is what I'll do."

She smiled at him warmly, knowing he had to be insanely worried about his father. But the kid played it cool, and she admired him for that. And she appreciated that he was willing to depend on her to get them through this. She just hoped she didn't let him down. "Let's finish clearing this place so we can try and get some rest."

_So come along, it wont be long 'til we return happy  
_ _Shut your eyes, there are no lies in this world we call sleep_

It took a while for Michonne to find sleep. Her body was run down, but her mind was running rampant. She had been avoiding thoughts of the others for hours, knowing she needed to concentrate on what she needed to do. But as she laid down to rest, it was all she could think about. Were they alive? Where did they go? Would she ever see them again? She knew the answers would elude her, but they kept her up for hours, until finally, her body forced her into a slumber.

_Let's desert this day of hurt  
_ _Tomorrow we'll be free_

She awoke to the sound of Judith crying, thankful that she'd waited until daylight to disturb the peace. By the time her eyes opened and fully adjusted, she realized Carl was already taking care of her. He'd made the baby a small bed at the end of the couch and he was using it to change her diaper. Michonne couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"Where are we gonna get more of these?" he asked when he noticed Michonne sit up. "We had so many at the prison, but now it's just a handful."

He was referring to Judith's diapers. And he was right, she would be through their supply by the next day, at the latest. And she knew they'd already cleared out the neighborhood, so pickings were certainly slim. "Well, back in the day, they used to use cloth diapers, you know."

Carl made a face to express his extreme disgust. "That sounds gross."

"It is," she smirked, "but we make due with what we have. Right?"

"The minute she can walk, we're potty training her."

She knew he was joking, but was not averse to the idea at all. The sooner, the better. Especially if she was going to be on her own with the two of them. Stopping to change diapers while on the run was not high on her list of things she wanted to experience.

_On her own_. The words echoed in Michonne's head like a gong, finally registering what that meant. To be alone in the wild was one thing. But to do it with these kids relying her was a completely different story. And not just any children, but Rick's children. She would have to take care of them as well as Rick would, and she wasn't sure she could do that. There was a reason children weren't running rampant in the apocalypse – it was hard to keep them safe. Her eyes fell closed as she realized the weight that was on her.

Carl felt it too, seeing how troubled his friend suddenly appeared. "No sign of my dad, huh?"

"Not yet," she admitted hesitantly. "But it's still early."

He nodded as he finished up with Judith and pulled her pants back up her little legs. "So we just keep waiting?"

"You two should eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"Eat," she insisted, rising from her spot on the floor. "Not too much, because we have to ration this. But enough so your stomach isn't growling."

"Okay," he nodded again. "What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna head out to the main road and see if I see any signs of anyone."

"You don't want me to come?"

"No, I want you to keep Judith safe," she instructed as she swung her katana over her back. "You yell if you see anything. I should be able to hear you from out there."

"All right."

"I'll be back within the half hour."

"Be careful," he told her seriously. "We can't lose you, too."

She didn't want to respond to that, so she offered him a small smile on her way out the door. It was quite warm out already, considering the sun wasn't very high in the sky yet. But she could tell it was going to be a beautiful day, aside from the stench of death in the air. She looked back through the empty neighborhood, knowing that it would've probably been littered with kids on a morning like this back in the old days.

As she passed by the house she and Rick had used for their little rendezvous, she decided to go on inside, thinking it possible that he might've stopped there first. It was her last hope of finding him in this area, really.

She entered the home cautiously and immediately noticed that it was different from how she and Rick had left it. The place was clean the last time she'd been there, but now, empty cans were strewn throughout. Mud was tracked across the beautiful dark wood floor. She pulled her katana from its cover and listened for the sound of someone else. Silence.

"Hello?" she called out cautiously.

Silence.

She looked around for bags or clothes, or any sign that someone was still holed up there. She found it in the form of a large duffel bag, filled with guns, as well as a few cans of fruit cocktail and chopped spinach. Two things she could really, really use at the moment.

She did a quick calculation in her head and figured that she should leave the bag for the time being. If no one showed up to claim it before she left the neighborhood, she would take it. That seemed fair.

As she took one last scan of the room, she couldn't help but think of the last time she was there. She and Rick were so happy then, and they didn't even know it. They probably even took it for granted. But things had changed so drastically in just a couple of months, she would've killed to have that little insignificant moment back.

"Where are you, Grimes?" she asked out loud, hoping the universe would give her some form of an answer.

_Turn around  
_ _I know we're lost but soon we'll be found_

Something obviously heard her loud and clear. When she opened the door, prepared to head out to the road, the top of Rick's curly mane was staring back at her as he trudged up the steps to the porch. It was him. He'd found her. "You found me," she declared, almost in disbelief, grinning at the sight of him.

He looked up at the sound of her voice, finding himself immediately overcome with emotion. She was really there, in the flesh. This wasn't some illusion or figment of his imagination. He'd found her. He slowly approached her, his striking blue eyes welling with tears, and dropped to his knees. He pulled Michonne close, holding onto her waist, and let the calm wash over him. He'd found her.

Unsure of how to react to his reaction, she just stood there, stroking his hair. She cried too, feeling as though that weight of the world was slowly lifting from her shoulders. "We're gonna be okay," she recognized, saying it for both him and herself. She felt his grip tighten and her tears came harder. She knew that he had been low before, and had probably almost given up again. She was so glad he didn't. "It's okay," she promised him. "You found me."

_Well it's been rough but we'll be just fine_  
_Work it out yeah, we'll survive  
_ _You mustn't let a few bad times dictate_

"I found Carl," she told him, hoping that would bring him to his feet so she could look him in the eye. "Well he found me," she smiled through her tears. "And Judith. They're next door." She heard him sigh in relief, but he didn't move, so neither did she. "Everything's gonna be fine, Rick."

He believed her, as hard as it was. But he wanted to. He needed to. He nodded against her and then pulled back so that he could look up at her. Without words, his eyes relayed just how grateful he was, how relieved he was that this part of the fight was over. He wouldn't have to search high and low for his kids. Michonne took care of them.

He still hadn't spoken – not that there were any words that would've sufficed. But something leapt to the surface at the sound of her voice, at the sight of her face, and he'd been rendered speechless. He wasn't sure what the feeling was, but it had certainly taken him by surprise. Was it relief? Was it joy? Or was it love? He couldn't tell. Perhaps because he didn't want to know. Perhaps because falling in love with Michonne had never been on the agenda, and even less so now. But that didn't stop it from creeping up on him anyway.

_Turn away, it's just there's nothing left here to say  
_ _Turn around, I know we're lost but soon we'll be found_

Perhaps because, sure, he'd found her… but she was the one saving him.


	7. He Can Only Hold Her For So Long

**7 – He Can Only Hold Her For So Long**

Sasha could hear the hum of an engine running before her eyes even opened. She knew she was riding somewhere, and that she must have been taken against her will, as she couldn't recall anything before that. So she was hesitant to open her eyes, just in case someone was watching. She couldn't show her hand. So she continued to listen.

If she had to guess, they were probably driving about 60mph. The roads weren't clear enough to go so fast, so they had to be on a highway. She needed to open her eyes and figure out where the hell she was.

She began with a squint, immediately noting two people dressed as police officers in the two front seats – a man and a woman, seemingly oblivious to her presence at the moment. She could feel another person to her right, and craned her neck ever-so-slightly, fully opening her eyes to find that it was Beth. The teen was slumped towards the door, probably knocked out in the same manner she had been.  _What the hell happened_ , Sasha wondered.

She knew they had been kidnapped. But why? Why were these two people dressed as cops pulling two women into a vehicle with a medical cross painted on its back? And where was Daryl? Had they taken him too? Was he dead? She needed answers.

"What the hell is goin' on," she decided to come right out and demand.

"Oh, you're awake," the male kidnapper replied as if he'd been waiting for her to ask that very question. "That's good. We weren't sure you'd make it."

"What?"

"You were getting overrun by those rotters. Then when we came in to help, you got knocked out. Thought you'd be out the whole trip."

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Officer O'Donnell, this is Officer Shepherd," he introduced himself and his female companion. "We saved you."

"Bullshit. You took me and my friend against our will."

"Ma'am, you were being overrun," Shepherd interjected. "We saved you."

"I didn't need saving."

"You were in the middle of the road without any kind of supplies. No food. No water. Not even any guns. We're doing you a favor."

"And what does that translate to?"

"We're taking you back to our camp in Atlanta," O'Donnell replied. "Trust me, you'll be thanking us soon."

"Atlanta?"

"The capital of this great state of Georgia. Maybe you've heard of it."

Sasha sat up quickly, ignoring the pain searing through her lower body. "I don't wanna go to Atlanta."

"What you got against it?"

"Let me out of this car." She said it as calmly as her emotions would allow, but inside, she was screaming. "Please."

Shepherd turned to look at her, moved by the obvious anxiety written all over her face. "Ma'am, just calm down."

"Please don't tell me to calm down when I'm already calm."

"Well just relax. We'll be there soon enough."

"Let me out of this car," she said louder this time. Loud enough to stir Beth from her unconsciousness.

Beth felt comforted by the fact that she was still with Sasha, but the alarm in her voice was obvious. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she knew she needed to be on the same page as her. She subtly got her attention by wiggling her fingers along the car seat until Sasha noticed and rested her hand over hers.

"Listen," Sasha stated softly. "I understand that you're trying to help, but our family is back where you picked us up. And I'd appreciate it if you would let us go back."

"I hate to break it to you," O'Donnell chuckled, "but there was nothin' back there, darlin'. Nothin' but rotters."

"What difference does it make to you?"

"We help you, you help us," he explained simply. "And we need the help."

Beth squeezed Sasha's hand, willing her to not lose her temper. If she did, it could easily get them killed, and she knew it. "Just take me," Beth offered, hoping to keep the peace. "Let Sasha go and you can take me."

"No," Sasha inserted forcefully.

"It's a compromise," she whispered to her companion.

"It's not an option."

"Now wait a minute," O'Donnell offered. The smirk on his face was so smug, it was filling the car. "We may be able to work somethin' out."

"No."

"Sasha, we're obviously not both getting out of here. Just let me go, and you find Daryl and the others."

"Your sister would kill me," she hissed back at Beth. "No!"

"Sasha."

"Come on, Sasha," Shepherd jumped in. "This way, we all get something we want."

"I don't want this," she replied emphatically. Beth's bright blue eyes begged her to focus on the bigger picture and the fact that one of them needed to get out of there if both of them couldn't. She hated to accept this prospect, but it was certainly better than both of them heading off to Atlanta for god knows what. "We're not splitting up," she mouthed to the teenager. She then turned to the officers and offered her surrender. "Fine, stop the car."

The two officers glanced at one another before pulling off to the side of the road. "Are you sure you can walk?" Shepherd asked. "It's a good twenty miles back to Senoia."

"I'll be fine," Sasha answered tersely, knowing she had no plans on walking anywhere. She inconspicuously pulled her knife from her boot as O'Donnell made his way out of the car to let her out. "Beth, you take care of yourself," she told her friend cryptically.

"I will," she promised, seeing that Sasha obviously had some kind of plan in place. She had no idea what it was, but she would follow her lead like her life depended on it. Because it did.

* * *

Daryl and Rick walked side by side along the train tracks, Rick with Judith in his arms, as they approached yet another sign for the mysterious land of Terminus. They'd been seeing them nonstop ever since the Grimes faction came across Daryl sitting beneath one of them. It didn't take long for them to decide that would be the most likely place for them to find the others. The more they saw the signs, the more they believed this to be true.

"It's crazy that the four of y'all managed to get out together," Daryl commented, referring to Rick, Michonne, and the kids.

Rick watched Carl and Michonne a few feet ahead of them, playing some game where they were balancing along the tracks. He smiled at the sight. "We didn't get out together," he finally explained to his friend. "She found the kids, and I found her."

"Shit."

"Yeah," he nodded, taking a look down at his daughter, making sure she was still all right. "By the time I was done with The Governor and made my way inside, everyone was gone."

"I got out with Sasha and Beth," he mumbled quietly. He didn't want Michonne to hear. "I lost 'em, though."

Rick frowned at this information, unsure of how to take it. It's pretty difficult to just lose someone, and Daryl was the type to say they were dead if they were dead. "Lost?"

"They were taken," he shrugged, hoisting Michonne's huge duffel bag further onto his shoulder. "I dunno."

"You weren't there?"

"I was bein' too much of an asshole to take care of 'em. I shoulda been with 'em, but I wasn't."

Rick could understand that sentiment more than he cared to admit. "But they're still alive?"

"Assumin' so."

Rick nodded, softly running his hands over Judith's blonde hair. Her forehead was warm, and damp with sweat. "Michonne," he called out, wanting her to put a pause on their little game.

"A little busy here, Senior Grimes," she called back, still trying to keep her balance.

"Well I need water for Baby Grimes, if you don't mind."

"Oh fine," she stopped in her tracks on the tracks and turned for Carl. "Time out, Junior Grimes."

"I thought we didn't get any time outs," he narrowed his eyes at her playfully. "No fair."

"You're really gonna make me forfeit so I can save your sister?"

"Yep."

"That's cold," she grinned at her younger friend before turning for his father. She searched their food supply for the opened bottle of water and handed it over to Rick. "She okay?" she eyed him carefully and then the infant. She was so deep in her sleep, she looked unconscious.

"Yeah, just runnin' a little hot," he nodded, accepting a bandana from Daryl. "I think we oughta start looking for somewhere to settle down for the night."

She nodded. "There's gotta be some houses around here somewhere."

"I hope so. I need a bed."

She smirked at him, but immediately reminded herself that Daryl was there. "You okay over there, Mr. Dixon?"

"I'm all right," he nodded. "Even with this heavy ass bag."

"Thank you for carrying it."

"You took all this from the prison?"

"Found it," Rick inserted with a small yawn. "Just sittin' in an empty house."

"That's some kinda luck."

"About time, isn't it," Michonne smiled softly. She refocused on Rick and Judith as she returned their water to her bag. "You want me to take her for a while?"

"Nah, we're all right," he offered a discreet wink and a small grin. "You two can continue your game."

"Your kid made me forfeit. I'm not so sure I wanna keep playing."

"He's a man of honor," Rick shrugged jokingly. "Can't hold that against him."

"Like father like son," she agreed, turning back for Carl and their balancing act.

Daryl looked to Rick, noting the goofy grin on his friend's face, causing him to chuckle quietly. He was glad to see someone somewhat happy, in spite of all the disaster surrounding them. "So I guess this past week has been good to y'all."

"How do you mean?" Rick looked over to him.

"Y'all turned into a family all of a sudden."

He smirked at the idea, but he knew that had been true for a long time. "Isn't that what we all are? Hershel was like a father. You're my brother…"

Daryl nodded in agreement, but didn't know how to respond to that. He was never the best at expressing or even accepting feelings. "So that would make Michonne your… wife?"

"I don't know about all that," Rick chuckled quietly. "She's good with the kids."

"So was Carol. Never seen you look at her like you do Michonne."

His face immediately began to turn a bright red, not far from the shade of the bandana draped over Judith's head. "I have no idea what you're talkin' about."

Daryl chuckled at the fact that he'd made his friend blush, but he couldn't figure out why he was being so bashful. From what he could tell, the feelings were mutual, at least. "All right, man. Have it your way."

* * *

As darkness fell, the five of them came across what would have to make due as their homes for the night – a couple of abandoned cars. After a small debate, Carl and Judith slept in a large blue SUV, where Rick would join them after his shift taking watch. Daryl took to an old red Tercel parked about half a mile away, promising he would be fine until his turn on duty.

Once dinner was finished, Michonne and Rick decided to take watch together. They sat on the road, close to the kids, using a giant log as a back to their seats on the ground. "It's a really beautiful night," Michonne noted, staring up at the sky. She would've bet money she could count a thousand stars in that moment.

"Every night is beautiful with you sitting here." He knocked his boot against hers before looking over to see her reaction. She smiled brightly at the compliment.

"Why do you always do this?"

"Do what?"

"You leave me speechless. Constantly."

"There's nothin' wrong with not talkin'," he smirked. They were already sitting closely, but he moved in enough so that their legs were touching. He rested his hand on her thigh, waiting for her to take it.

She completed the action, immediately reveling in the sense of his touch again. His hands were rough and warm, as usual. "Almost forgot what this feels like."

"It hasn't been that long, has it?"

"Well it hasn't been a month or anything," she admitted, knowing she had been the reason for them being apart more often than not. "But a couple of weeks, which was unexpected."

"Well… here's to being alone for the first time since the last time," hr grinned. He immediately dove for her neck, licking at every crevice, and kissed his way up her chin until he found her lips.

"Rick..."

He didn't stop as he replied, "What?"

She wanted to pull away, say they couldn't do this there. Carl was just a few feet away. But his lips felt so good and the reality was, she didn't want to stop. She wanted everything right then and there, and didn't care who was there to see it. "Just hold on a sec," she finally managed to get out between kisses. She used the moment to hop on top of him, straddling his waist.

"There you are," he smirked, getting a full view of her gorgeous face. It really was nice to be this close, even if it was a bit torturous on his broken ribs. He held her face, gazing into her big chocolate orbs as if he'd never seen them before.

She suddenly felt incredibly vulnerable under his stare and looked down, resting her hands on his hips. She soon felt Rick harden against the underside of her thigh and she smirked back up at him. "And there you are."

With a small chuckle, he went in for another kiss as his hands roamed down her back until they rested on her perfect round ass. She giggled quietly into his mouth as he squeezed excitedly. She loved how every time was like the first time with him.

"We're just gonna do this out in the open like this, huh?"

"Why not," he shrugged, moving his hands around front to unbutton her shirt. His tongue moved across her cleavage as quickly as he uncovered it. Her skin was so warm and so soft, it was driving him insane.

"I want you all the time," she admitted to him softly, reveling in the feel of his kisses. "Even when I'm sad, even when I feel like crying, I think about this. With you."

He stopped for a moment to look up at her. It was an odd thing to say in the moment, made even weirder to him because he felt the same way. In the midst of all their highs and lows, he felt most comforted with her by his side. He wanted nothing more than to be with her all the time. Thoughts of what their lives would be like once this was all over often invaded his mind. But then he remembered that this would never be over, so he had to push it all back down. "I like you too," he replied simlply.

She gave him a small smile, running her hands through his hair as she continued their kiss. His fingers were on the verge of going down her pants when he felt the cold barrel of a gun flush against his temple.

"Oh deary me," a strange voice declared as he came into view under the moonlight. "Look what we have here."

Michonne looked up to see an older white man holding a gun to Rick's head and immediately moved to grab her katana. Instead, it was kicked out of her grasp, and some unknown entity pulled her from Rick's lap. Rick tried to hold onto her hand, and she did her best to not let go, but she was thrown to the ground, causing them to separate.

"Today is the day of reckoning, sir. Restitution. A balancing of the whole damn universe."

Soon, they were surrounded by five guys, all varying degrees of dirty and menacing. Rick held his hands up, but kept his eyes on Michonne and the kids' car to make sure nothing was happening to them. "Restitution for what," he asked hoarsely. He could understand being robbed, but he hadn't done anything warranting revenge.

"Don't add insult to injury and act like you don't know what I'm talkin' about," the man with his gun on Rick retorted. "Or maybe you're just used to stealing everything a man owns and expecting not to answer for it."

Rick frowned, knowing he hadn't stolen anything from anyone. And then he remembered the bag. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "We didn't know you'd be back for it-."

"And now you do."

"For all we knew, the owner was dead," Michonne inserted, her eyes darting to each of the men surrounding them. Guns everywhere.

"Listen, you can have your stuff back. Just take it and leave us alone," Rick suggested calmly. "No reason for this to escalate."

"Look, we're reasonable men. You take somethin' of ours, we simply take somethin' of yours." The man that was obviously the leader of the group let out a short whistle and immediately, one of his lackeys was pulling Michonne to her feet. "Now see, that right there is a nice consolation prize," he said, eyeing the length of her body. "Always did have a thing for sweet black pussy. I s'pose we got that in common," he chuckled patting Rick on the back.

"Leave her alone," Rick replied quietly but seriously.

"Oh, you don't wanna give her up?"

"Hey Joe," one of the others called out to the leader. "There's a kid up in this here truck."

"Even better," Joe smiled maliciously, his gun still aimed at Rick's head. "Two for the price of one."

"Don't you dare fuckin' touch him," Rick warned him.

"Now, now. You know nothing's free on this world... Even when you steal it." He fell silent as one of his comrades pulled a terrified Carl from the car, holding a knife to the boy's throat. "Tell you what. I'm in a generous mood tonight, so how about this. We'll only have one of them. You pick."

"You better let him go," Rick ignored his offer, seeing nothing but red as he realized the danger his son was in. Judith was crying now, which was like a cattle call for any walker within a few hundred yards. He needed to move quickly. "Let him go," he repeated more forcefully this time.

Michonne could see the wheels turning in Rick's head. This was a very different man from the one that had tried to talk The Governor off the ledge just a week ago. There was rage bubbling under the surface, and it was on the verge of erupting.

"You hear this?" Joe laughed, focusing his attention on Michonne. "He's willing to let us rape you just to save his little bastard son that'll probably be dead within a week anyway." He found this extremely insulting and therefore, extremely funny, cackling loudly in Rick's ear. "Hope you didn't think he was in love with you or any-" He was cut off mid sentence by a headbutt from Rick, causing him to accidentally shoot his gun into the ground before stumbling backwards.

Hearing the gunshot at such close range caused Rick to lose his bearings for just a moment, but he and Joe were in a fist fight before he knew it. He remembered throwing the first punch, but Joe had gone on a rampage, punching and kicking him in several spots where he was already injured. It was quickly turning into a losing battle.

"Dad!" Carl was screaming.

Over the ringing in his ears, he heard the sound of his son calling for help. It's a devastating thing to hear in any situation, but for one in which you feel nearly helpless, it was unbearable. He was doing his best to get to him, but Joe, throwing several punches his way, was making it impossible. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see both Carl and Michonne had been thrown to the ground and fighting off their attackers. It was time to kill or be killed.

Seeing that Rick's focus had been taken, Joe pulled him into a debilitating bear-hug, making sure he couldn't move a muscle. Amused by the man's powerlessness, he asked, "The hell you gonna do now, sport?"

Rick answered by taking a large bite out of his throat.

* * *

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Michonne answered emphatically, keeping her eyes on the man that had just saved her life. Again.

"I'm okay." He told her for her sake, but he probably needed to say it out loud for himself. He'd done the only thing he could to save the people he loved, and that really was okay.

She offered a small smile, enjoying the fact the she already understood that. "I know."

"How?"

"Because I'm okay, too."

He took that in as they continued down the train tracks towards Terminus. Carl and Judith were a few feet ahead of them, and Daryl another few feet in front of them. It was most definitely a good feeling to go through some kind of turmoil and come out on the other side without having lost anyone.

"Hey," Michonne called out to him, seeing him lost in his thoughts. When he turned towards her, she held out her hand.

"What's this about?" he smirked.

She shook her head at his obliviousness and took his hand into hers, interlocking their fingers. "It's not about anything. I just wanna be close to you."

He remembered what she said the night before, about wanting him all the time. It echoed in his head, conjuring up feelings of joy and apprehension, because he knew he felt the same way, and that scared him. It was a distraction. It was the last thing he needed to focus on, yet it was the only thing he could focus on. He loved this woman.

"Maybe now isn't the best time," he whispered, releasing his hand from her grasp. "We should concentrate on getting to Terminus."

She frowned, finding his reaction a bit odd, but decided to let it go. Besides, he was right. The previous night had more than proven that they had no time to let their guards down. "Right," she nodded. "Okay."

"We're close," he went on to remind her as if she didn't know. "But we have no idea what's about to happen. We need our defenses up."

"I get it, Rick." She understood what he was saying probably even better than he did. The two of them were close – they were right on the cusp, in fact, of turning their mostly physical relationship into something real. But he obviously had his walls up now, and there was nothing she could do about that. "Not now."

"Right," he confirmed, just before leaving her to go catch up to Daryl. "Not now."


	8. Cállate

**8 – Cállate**

" _You're on your own, Martin."_

The young man dropped his supply of fireworks to pull his walkie-talkie from his back pocket. "You don't have to tell me. I wipe my own ass," he replied sarcastically. He looked up to the sky, gauging how much time and space he had, before he went on with his conversation. "Alex didn't get it, see. I knew that Sasha bitch was bad news when she showed up. Clothes covered in blood and shit."

" _He was always a flappy-ass motherfucker_ ," the voice on the other end replied.

He smiled in amusement at her answer. "Yeah, I told Albert not to kill the blonde girl yet, I want my shot before they bleed her out-" The sound of a gun cocking against his head brought his sentence to a halt.

"Keep your finger off the button and drop it," Rick instructed, referring to the radio. His Southern drawl was covered in authority as his blue eyes narrowed on their new hostage.

"Listen, y'all don't have to do this," Martin replied, while his comrade on the walkie continued to speak. "Whatever you want. We got a place where everyone's welcome."

"Shut the fuck up," Daryl retorted angrily.

"Okay…"

"We're friends with 'that Sasha bitch' and the blonde girl," Rick added.

Martin nodded, understanding that he was low on options then. The two men dragged him into the adjacent abandoned cabin and tied his arms behind his back using an old seat belt, while the woman and the kid holding the baby followed closely behind. He knew the likelihood of him getting out alive was low, but seeing them with a baby gave him a shred of hope that they would have mercy. They had to have some semblance of humanity if they'd kept two kids alive. "They attacked us," he declared desperately. "We're just holdin' them."

"I don't believe you," Rick answered evenly.

Daryl was walking in circles, unsure of why Rick seemed so calm about this. He was more than eager to get to Terminus, knowing at least two of their friends were still alive, but his friend seemed to be in no hurry. "Who else y'all got?"

"Just Sasha and Beth. That's it." He continued to insist, "We're just protectin' ourselves."

"I don't believe you," Rick repeated, glancing at him coolly. He and Michonne did a quick search through Martin's supplies, finding fireworks and food. He gave her a nod, and she immediately recognized that he would be leaving.

"How are you gonna do this?" she asked softly, unable to stop herself from examining his face. He had been so unbelievably composed since the night before, it was almost beginning to worry her.

"I'm gonna kill them," he nodded, but avoided her gaze, glancing over to where Carl and Judith stood near the door.

She nodded as well, knowing that that was likely the only option. They'd heard a long round of gunshots a few minutes earlier, and they were pretty sure none of their people had that much ammo. "You be careful out there."

"You be careful in here," he smirked as his eyes scanned the room and then Martin.

"We will," she assured him. She subtly ran her hand over his for just a second, silently pleading for him to come back to them.

Rick went to Carl and Judith, giving each of them a kiss on the top of their heads. "You take care of your sister."

"I always do," Carl confirmed, offering a small smile to his dad. He knew he would be back, but whenever they parted ways, it was hard to swallow. "Do you think everyone is there?" he asked hopefully.

"I don't know," he shook his head as he hoisted Martin's bag over his shoulder, along with a rifle. "Let's hope so."

"If they are, we're gonna find 'em," Daryl promised, taking a gun for himself.

* * *

Rick and Daryl arrived at the gates to Terminus, almost surprised by how tame and uninteresting it all appeared. After hearing so many gunshots, they figured the place would have been guarded from top to bottom, but at first glance, it looked like an abandoned old train station. Greenery was the only sign of life they could find when they approached.

"It's obvious somethin' ain't right," Daryl proclaimed, eyeing the largest building in the compound. "All those signs leadin' people here and there ain't a soul walkin' around?"

"I was just thinkin' that," Rick agreed.

"Don't make sense, Sasha goin' in here. She's smarter than that…"

"That kid said she was covered in blood," Rick reminded him. "She might've been desperate. Maybe injured."

He accidentally dropped his gun at the thought. He never stopped to think that Sasha might have been covered in her own blood. "You think so?"

"I don't know," he answered obliviously, peering towards a set of boxcars at the opposite end of the fences, noting a lot of movement all of a sudden. "You see that?"

He snapped out of his thoughts to see what Rick was referring to. A few hundred feet away, they could see four armed men enter a train car. The two of them skulked along the gate to get a better view, but stopped in their tracks when they saw four of their people – Glenn, Bob, Sasha, and Carol – being dragged out. They were bound and gagged, possibly drugged, as it didn't look like they were putting up a fight as they were hauled off towards a building that looked like a warehouse.

"If Glenn's here, Maggie is probably here," Rick observed, frowning at the sight.

"And we know they got Beth. So that's at least six."

"I'm guessin' there's more in there or they would've brought 'em all out," he deduced with a sigh. He didn't know what was about to happen to those four, but he could make an educated guess that it wasn't good. "What's the point in bleeding someone out?"

"I dunno." Daryl bit at his bottom lip and shook his head, knowing the two of them would never be able to get into the mind of a psychopath. "Torture?"

"But why lure people in here just to torture them?" As much as he understood that there were just evil people in the world, it seemed like a lot of work – the signs, the radio transmittal, the whole façade – just to torment innocent people.

"Ain't got time to figure it out now," he shrugged. The earlier gunshots had brought on a barrage of walkers, and they were beginning to convene outside the gates. "We gotta get in there before they do."

Rick nodded in agreement and began to pull the fireworks from his bag, preparing for their assault on Terminus.

* * *

"He's gonna be back," Carl assured Michonne, seeing the look of worry that wouldn't leave her face.

She sat on the floor near the door, with Judith laid across her lap, fast asleep. She smiled warmly at the teenager as she rubbed the infant's back. "I know."

"You look like you're not sure."

"I just wish I was there, I guess."

"You didn't have to stay."

"No, I didn't," she granted, watching him pace back and forth across the floor. "Why don't you come sit with us."

"I don't wanna sit," he declined brusquely.

"Carl…"

"If I sit down, I'm gonna explode."

Michonne was hesitant to have a serious conversation with him in front of the stranger from Terminus, but she could tell he needed to talk, and she really wanted to listen. "Come sit," she softly insisted, nodding towards the empty spot beside her. "Talk to me."

He reluctantly did as directed and took a seat next to his friend, taking off his hat to rest his head against the wall. "I miss the prison," he sighed.

"It was safe," Michonne agreed, staring down at Judith. She couldn't help but ponder what kind of life these children would lead if they didn't find another similar place soon. "Until it wasn't."

"I thought I hated my dad being a farmer, but…"

"This is scary," she understood. "For him, too."

"What's scary is that I understand now, what he would do to protect me and Judith. I mean, he bit a guy's throat out to save me and you last night." He shook his head, still in disbelief that that happened. "I spent all this time being mad at him for wanting to have a normal life, for taking away my gun and making me do chores around the prison. I took for granted the fact that he would  _die_  for me."

She gave him a small smile. He was right, he had certainly taken his father for granted. But the fact that he recognized it, finally, would be a huge step in their relationship, and that made her happy for them. "That's what parents do, Carl. His only job in the world is to keep you two alive."

"Yeah, but what's the point if he's gone?" he wondered seriously. His baby blues searched Michonne's face for a legitimate answer to the question, even though he knew she wouldn't have one. "If that guy had killed him last night, I'd have to find some way to go on without him. And I'd do it, and I'd take care of Judith… but it would suck so much. Why would a parent want that for their kid?"

She sighed heavily and rested her head against the wall as well. "It's not what he'd want. But if the choice is between him and you, or him and Judith… he's gonna choose you two every time."

"I know," he nodded. "I just wish he wouldn't."

"I wish he didn't have to."

"That, too."

"Your father is a good man," she reminded him softly. "That's something you should be proud of. Not sad about."

"I am proud," he assured her quickly. "I guess I just think about how Beth had to watch her dad die and I can't help but think that's gonna be me one day."

She winced at the mere notion, and glanced over at him with a small shake of her head. She didn't know why his words surprised her. It made sense that these thoughts probably crossed his mind every day. She just never realized what kind of weight he carried around with him. "Jesus, kid."

"I know…"

"That's why you miss the prison."

"I was safe, which meant my dad was safe."

"Well how safe were we really? If someone could just show up and blow it all to hell."

"That's true." His eyes landed on Martin, sitting there listening to them. He didn't care, because he knew his dad would probably kill the guy the minute they got back. But he wondered if he had been through anything even close to what they'd experienced. Probably not, he thought. Bad stuff seemed to only happen to good people. "Michonne?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you think when you saw my dad do that last night?"

She smirked as she recalled her thoughts when she saw Rick's face covered in blood as Joe fell to the ground. "You mean after my mind stopped screaming, ' _Holy shit_?'"

"Yes, after that," he chuckled.

"Well, after all was said and done, I realized that that is exactly the man I know your dad to be. He's crazy, and protective, and reliable. What he did last night is the reason why I love him."

Carl's eyes widened to the size of saucers as he looked over at Michonne. They had been speaking at a fairly low volume, but his voice went up a few decibels as he replied to her admission. "You do?"

She almost hated to admit it, especially with the way he'd been so aloof all morning, but what was the point in denying it anymore? "I do."

"Since when?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, her eyes looking up to the ceiling. "It just hit me one day, and it seems a bit silly to keep trying to pretend I don't. Don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess so." He couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Does he love you, too?"

She found herself smirking again. "Honestly? I don't know."

* * *

Rick carefully made his way through the Terminus courtyard, doing his best to avoid the throngs of walkers that had invaded the place. He and Daryl had let them in and then used a combination of gas and fireworks to cause an explosion. The entire place turned to chaos rather quickly, which gave them the opportunity to split up and find their friends. Daryl had gone to free the people trapped in the boxcar, while Rick made it his mission to take out anyone that even looked like an enemy.

He'd gone through a series of rooms before stumbling across one that appeared to be a shrine of some sort. It was filled with burning candles and personal effects, with names and numbers inscribed on the floor. It was an odd sight in the face of all the other things he'd seen there – medieval, cannibalistic stuff. The memorial seemed so out of place.

_Never again. Never trust. We first, always._ Rick stared at the words painted on the closest wall, trying to figure out what it all meant.

"Kind of our mantra around here," a male voice declared just ahead of its footsteps.

Rick turned immediately, his gun ready to fire, a bit surprised to find a twenty-something unarmed kid staring back at him. He didn't speak, but stared at him coldly, almost daring him to continue speaking.

"It was between this one and, 'Are you the butcher or the cattle?'" he accepted the silent challenge as he gazed at the wall himself. He looked at it as if he were feeling nostalgic. "Difficult but necessary lesson we learned."

Rick still didn't speak.

"I'm Gareth," the guy went on. He seemed bizarrely upbeat for a guy whose home was on fire and crawling with walkers. It was as though he was amused by it all. "You must be Rick," he knew from the way Glenn had described the man. He seemed positive that this guy would be coming, and lo and behold, he was right. "It's actually pretty cool to meet you. Your friends didn't even know if you were alive, but they said if you were, you'd find them. And here you are."

"Here I am," he finally spoke, keeping his gun and his eyes narrowed in on his subject. "You should've listened to them."

"Yeah, I guess so," Gareth agreed with raised eyebrows. "But we never had bad intentions."

"Yet here we are."

"It wasn't just a trap," he promised enthusiastically. "They had a choice. Either join us or feed us…"

"All those stuffed animals in that other room, those were from people you gave a choice?"

He offered a sarcastic shrug. "I can't account for bad parenting."

"You're a monster."

"The signs were real. It was a sanctuary," he contended, shaking his head. "But people came, and they took this place. They raped. And they killed. And they laughed. You ever have to watch your mom get raped, Rick?"

He shook his head, but couldn't help but think what would have happened to Carl the night before if he hadn't been able to save them.

"When you've felt helpless once, you'll do anything to never have to feel it again," Gareth nodded seriously. "We fought back, and we got this place back. But we heard the message loud and clear. You're the butcher or you're the cattle."

Rick was well aware of that helpless feeling, and on some level, even understood the urge to want revenge. But preying on innocent people never once crossed his mind, and so, he wasn't buying what Gareth was selling. "Where are the people they pulled from that train car?"

"You know, people don't taste as bad as you might think," Gareth went on to casually explain, as if Rick had asked for the details. "Women are actually pretty good. My brother Alex… who, by the way, is currently dead because of your people. He had this theory that it's because of the extra layer of fat women have. For childbearing, apparently. Even the skinny girls have it…" He looked Rick squarely in the eye as he added, "Like that one woman you were walking through the woods holding hands with. I bet she tastes good." He slowly licked his lips before smiling at the man in front of him. "Doesn't she?"

He could feel his face growing hot, but Gareth was clearly instigating, and he knew he needed to maintain his composure. "Where are my people?"

"Well, Rick, all my people are dead, so I can't say I give a fuck about helping you find yours."

"Those your last words?" he wanted to confirm, aiming his gun directly at the young man's forehead.

"You could've been one of us. You could've listened to—"

Rick didn't actually have time for last words. He put a bullet through his skull and took a small pleasure in the sound of his body falling to the ground. "Shut up," he told the corpse, just before walking away.

* * *

"Hey," Martin whispered, attempting to get Carl's attention when he noticed Michonne was preoccupied with the baby. "Did your dad really bite out someone's throat?"

"Don't talk to him," Michonne commanded firmly.

"I can talk to whoever I want," he shot back, smacking loudly on his chewing gum. "Kid, you don't have to listen to her. She ain't your mama."

"You should stop talking," Carl suggested calmly, much in a manner like his dad's.

"You can take care of his kids and wipe his baby's ass, but that don't make you their mama," he went on. "I know you gotta know how stupid you look, sitting around waiting to die with some random man's children. How long have you even known him? A couple months? You love him," he snickered, ignoring the fact that Michonne and Carl were clearly trying to ignore him. "You love him because he lets you take care of his kids? Congrats on bein' the nanny. And probably a pretty good fuck. But you sleeping with their dad doesn't make you their mom."

Carl was frowning now, offended for Michonne. "Stop it," he warned, his hand grazing his gun.

"Trust me, kid," he rolled his eyes. "I mean, it's obvious y'all've been through a lot, but once the dust settles, your dad ain't gonna need a babysitter or some samurai to go to war with. He's gonna find a nice homemaker, probably someone like whoever your actual mom was, and y'all will all forget this woman ever existed."

Michonne wasn't rattled by many things, including the notion that Rick was using her, or anything else Martin had said. He could say what he wanted to her. But she couldn't stand by idly while he tried to use his psychological warfare to get to Carl. She may not have given birth to him, but she cared for him as much as any mother would. And much like Rick, any threat to her kid would have to be eliminated. She slowly pulled her katana from its sheath and approached their talkative prisoner. "You got anything else you wanna say?"

"Oh come on, you gonna kill me for tellin' the truth? You'll die-."

His sentence was cut off by Michonne's sword, slicing across his throat. She watched his blood trickle down his body as it slumped to the floor, before using her knife to stop him from reanimating. As she wiped her weapon, she gave him one last glance of disapproval. "Shut up."


	9. Don't Take This Personal, But You're The Worst

**9 – Don't Take This Personal, But You're The Worst**

"I'd like to propose a toast. I look around this room and I see survivors. Each and every one of you has earned that title. To the survivors," Abraham Ford proclaimed, raising his glass to his friends, old and new. "Is that all you wanna be? Wake up in the morning, fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep at night, two eyes open, rinse and repeat? 'Cause you can do that. I mean you got the strength. You got the skill. Thing is, for you people, for what you can do, well that's just surrender. Now we get Eugene to Washington, and he will make the dead die and the living will have this world again. And that is not a bad takeaway for a little road trip. Eugene, what's in DC?"

"Infrastructure constructed to withstand pandemics, even of this FUBAR magnitude. That means food, fuel, refuge. Restart."

"However this plays out, however long it takes for the reset button to kick in… you can be safe there. Safer than you've been since this whole thing started. Come with us. Save the world for that little one. Save it for yourselves. Save it for the people out there that don't got nothin' left to do except survive."

Rick looked around the small room, filled with the people he loved most in the world. Carl, Judith, Michonne, Glenn, Carol… everyone was back together. And they'd even managed to bring some new ones into the fold without having to threaten to kill them. But now they wanted to run off to Washington, DC to supposedly save the world, and he wasn't sure if he believed in such a mission. Even if, by some miracle, Eugene wasn't full of it, the world might have been already too far gone to save.

He didn't know what the answer was, and he could tell by the looks on everyone else's faces that they didn't either. He turned to Abraham and gave him as genuine answer as he could. "I don't know what to think. I don't know if I believe in this dream you're sellin'. Right now, we've got four walls and a roof, and even some food to put in our stomachs, and I'm not one to leave that behind so quickly. But… we can talk about it. We can all make a decision together in the morning."

Everyone seemed fairly satisfied with that answer, even Abraham, who was itching to get back on the road. But he sat down, and they continued their festivity. They'd found each other, as well as an abandoned church to hole up in for a while, and that was worth celebrating.

Daryl and Sasha sat in a corner together, sharing a plate of fresh carrots they'd taken from Terminus, while they watched their friends interact. Beth and Maggie were talking on a pew, a few feet away; Glenn, Bob, and Rick sat near the altar with Judith; Carol was making sure Carl had a full plate; Tyreese was introducing Michonne to their new friends – Tara, Abraham, Rosita, and Eugene. It was a beautiful sight, having the gang back together.

"I still can't believe we all found each other," Sasha sighed in amazement. "Stuff like that just doesn't happen anymore."

"Guess that place was good for somethin'," Daryl agreed, referring to Terminus.

"I thought you were dead," she admitted, feeling almost bad for giving up on him. "We were just trying to find some place to escape to."

Daryl was never one to give up on something or someone, no matter how low the odds, but he understood why she had. The way she and Beth were taken, it was truly hard to fathom ever seeing each other again. "What happened out there?" he had to ask.

She shook her head, not wanting to relive her kidnapping. "I still don't really know. One minute, Beth and I were killing a bunch of walkers that had come up on the funeral home. The next minute, I was in this car, with a man and a woman dressed as police officers in the front seats."

"That was the car with the cross on it."

"Yep," she nodded slowly. "They said they were taking us to their camp in Atlanta. I could barely walk, but I knew I wasn't going to anybody's Atlanta, so I told them to let me out."

"It was that easy?"

"Absolutely not," she scoffed. "They wanted to keep Beth. So when the guy gets out of the car to release me, we killed them." Daryl glanced up at her, obviously not expecting to hear that; but he didn't speak, so she continued. "I was able to get the woman quick, but Beth had to stab the guy to stop him from strangling me. Then I finished it."

"Goddamn…"

"It was surreal."

"Were they your first?"

"Killing the living?" She nodded. "Thing is, I didn't even hesitate. When they said they wanted to take Beth, I knew that that was what had to happen."

"That's usually how it is," he shrugged. "Ain't no time to stop and think anymore. That's how you end up locked in a boxcar."

"You're right," she smirked. "I knew Terminus was fucked up when we walked in there. But we had already driven back to the funeral home and you weren't there. I didn't know where else to go. Where else would I find you?"

He held back a smile as he looked over at her again. "So you hadn't given up on me then."

She couldn't hold back her smile as she realized that he was right. "I guess not."

They fell silent for a while, continuing to watch everyone around them. The place was small, but it was more than enough for them to utilize while they rested up for a while. They needed to figure out their next move. Would it be Washington? Daryl could tell from Rick's face that he wasn't into the idea at all. He wondered how Sasha felt about it. "What you think of this whole DC thing?"

She let out a long, frustrated sigh as her eyes fell on Eugene and his group. "I don't know what to think, honestly. If he's telling the truth, we could actually save the world."

"But if he ain't…"

"We could die trying to get him there, for no reason."

He nervously bit at his bottom lip, trying to figure out the logic of this supposed scientist's plan. "If we're all infected, is it even possible to fix this?"

"I don't know." She slouched down so that she could rest her head on his shoulder, and then let her eyes fall closed. She was tired. "Maybe we all die anyway. Maybe we die trying to make something of this world."

He closed his eyes too, knowing he would sleep well for the first time since they'd lost the prison. "Maybe."

* * *

Rick found himself watching Michonne from across the room. She looked happy, he noticed, sitting there laughing with Maggie and Bob. Considering everything they'd been through in the past 24 hours, it seemed insane to have anything to laugh about. Between Joe, Terminus, and Martin, it was a wonder they were still even standing. But that was the thing – they were still standing, and when he thought about it, that was certainly something to be happy about.

When he finally caught her eye, he nodded towards the door with a playful smirk on his face. She narrowed her eyes, wondering if he was serious, but amusedly hopped up from her seat when she saw he was already headed for the exit. She thought he might've been avoiding her, for reasons she was unable to come up with, so she was glad to know it was just her imagination being overactive.

She found him standing on the church steps, seemingly staring into oblivion. "Hey, stranger."

"Hey, gorgeous," he turned to greet her, offering a grin that mostly showed in his eyes, and then grabbed her hand. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" she chuckled. It was dark and she didn't have her katana, which was not her favorite combination.

"Let's get lost tonight."

She smiled at his choice of words, and even the very idea, but she wasn't so sure that was the best course of action. "Rick, we can't just leave."

"Why not?"

"Because…"

He looked back at the church, fading into the distance the more they walked, and couldn't think of a single reason not to leave. Everything was finally fine again. "We've spent every second of the last few days worryin' about other people, Michonne. But our people are safe. My kids are goin' to bed on a full stomach with a roof over their heads. There's nothin' left to worry about. Let's take care of ourselves tonight."

She looked down at their intertwined hands, recalling how he'd let her go when she tried to hold onto him that morning. But he was right – they should enjoy this moment while they could. "Okay."

"All right?"

"So long as we don't get attacked by a gang of rapists again."

He shook his head, playfully annoyed by her statement. "I'm tryin' to take a romantic walk with you through the woods, but sure, let's bring that up again…"

"I'm kidding," she smiled, squeezing his hand. "I didn't realize this was about romance."

"Well that's 'cause you didn't let me get to that part." He stopped walking, causing her to do the same, and gave her a quick kiss. It was so soft, it felt like a butterfly against her lips, causing her to smile again.

"Mmmm," she sighed as they pulled apart. She ran a hand over his curls and then rested it on his face as she looked into his eyes. They were as dark as the sky in that moment. "If you really wanted to be romantic, you could've shaved, you know."

"I dunno," he replied as he felt his face as well. "I'm really startin' to like it."

"I'm starting to hate it."

"You know, Rosita told me it was badass, and I tend to agree with her."

"Rosita has spent the past three months with two men that have seriously questionable taste in body hair, so that makes sense."

He chuckled lightly as they continued their stroll. "You're better than this, Dillard."

"Okay, maybe it looks a little badass," she admitted hesitantly, smiling up at him. "And I might even like how it feels against my thighs. But it's hiding a very attractive face, and that's not okay."

He laughed louder this time, utterly amused by everything about her. "Is that right?"

"I think so. I almost remember what you looked like when I first came to the prison."

"Oh, you liked that look, huh?"

"Oh for sure. Crazy as hell and all." She wrapped her arm around his waist, letting one of her fingers hang from his belt loop as they walked. "Of course you're still crazy…"

"And more importantly, I'm okay with it."

"And most importantly, I quite like it."

"Which makes you equally as crazy," he grinned.

"Well I put my sword through someone today because they were talking too much, so I would say that's probably accurate."

"We both know that's not why you killed him. He was a threat, and he had to go."

"I keep telling myself that he wanted me to kill him, but… I think that's just to make myself feel better."

"Maybe he did," Rick offered diplomatically. He stopped at a giant boulder, deciding that would be a good place for them to hang out for a while. They could keep an eye out for their enemies, dead and alive, from up there. They quickly climbed the huge rock and got settled on their mini mountaintop, sitting as closely as they could while facing one another. "There you are," he smiled, finally catching her face in the moonlight. The night was beautiful and so was she.

"I never went anywhere," she grinned back. "I'm always with you, you know."

"I do," he nodded. "Even when you were runnin' off to look for The Governor, I knew that."

She rolled her eyes at the fact that he still considered it to be 'running off,' but she let it go for the sake of their conversation. "Good."

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?" he chuckled uneasily.

"No…"

"I just saw you."

"It wasn't you," she shook her head absently as she glanced down at her feet, avoiding his gaze. "Just… ignore me."

"Hey." He wanted her attention, but she seemed to be stuck in her own head all of a sudden. " _Hey_ ," he said again. Shaking her thoughts away, she looked back up at him. "You okay?"

She nodded.

"What were you just thinkin' about?"

"I don't know. I guess it just bothers me a little that you don't understand why I was leaving." So much for saving their conversation.

"Michonne, I've told you a million times that I understood."

"And yet, you still consider it 'running off.' I haven't gone anywhere; I've been here for you, one hundred thousand percent, and still, you can't stop yourself from bringing up the fact that I left."

He frowned at her tone, confused by the sudden turn things had taken. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"I dunno," she conceded, leaning back so their faces weren't so close anymore. "Ignore me. I'm tired."

"Michonne…"

"Seriously. Just pretend I didn't say anything."

"I know it's been a rough couple of days. Which is saying a lot, considering. But if you got somethin' on your mind; if I've said or done anything to make you think I don't appreciate you, I need you to tell me."

"No," she shook her head adamantly. "Never once have I thought you ungrateful or anything like that."

"Then what?"

"I just wish you… knew me better, I guess. Or that we were closer…" She sighed. "I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"Well I wish you'd figure it out, 'cause you're kinda ruining our night out here," he joked.

She smiled in spite of herself and hit his leg playfully. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. I just wanna know what's bothering you."

"We don't have that much time," she winked.

"We've got all night, baby."

"Oh god," she giggled, more charmed by him than she ever wanted to be. She stared at him for a moment, wondering if he could handle what was really on her mind. "Gimme a kiss."

He narrowed his eyes at her, knowing she was avoiding something, but unsure of what it was. So he obliged with a kiss on her cheek, then her neck, finishing with a long one on her lips.

She sat on her knees in front of him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "One more."

He went in for another one, letting his tongue roam into her mouth to do its usual dance with hers. His hands slowly unzipped her leather vest and then went up her shirt, freeing her breasts from the captivity of her bra. They were so plump and soft, he couldn't wait to have them in his mouth. "One more?" he asked, his lips already traveling across her collarbone.

She nodded, thrilled by the feeling of his tongue on her skin. She quickly felt her way through unbuckling his belt, grazing his already growing erection in the process. She realized she didn't need the foreplay; she just wanted him inside her as quickly as possible. "Come on," she whispered into his ear. "Fuck me."

* * *

 

_I don't need you, I don't need you, I don't need you, I don't need you_  
_But I want you_  
_I don't mean to, I don't mean to, I don't mean to, I don't mean to  
_ _But I love you_

As their evening reached a climax, Rick tiredly fell beside Michonne on their boulder, licking his lips as he caught his breath. "God."

"You okay," she smirked, feeling sated as well. She could have fallen asleep right there next to him.

"I wish we could just do this, all the time."

"Really? Just this?"

"Just this," he sighed happily. "You are, by far, the best I've ever had."

She could only shake her head at the compliment. He said something to that effect nearly every time they had sex, and it never bothered her before. But now, it conjured up images of the guy she'd killed earlier that day, and she had to shake them away.

"I've missed this," he added, turning on his side to look at her.

She closed her eyes before speaking again. "What is this?"

"What?" he chuckled.

"What are we doing here, Grimes? Is this just sex, or…"

"Or… what?"

"I have to spell this out for you?"

He pulled up his pants and sat up, understanding that a serious conversation was back on the table. "It's not just sex," he promised genuinely. "I don't know what else it is, but it's not just that."

"Then why is it that we're still sneaking around like fifteen-year-olds?"

"I thought that was part of the fun," he defended, running his hand along her bare stomach.

"It's not fun anymore, Rick." She pushed his touch away and began to get dressed again. "When things were safe at the prison, and nothing was serious, sure. But shit got real, and it seems like all these catastrophic events should be bringing us closer. I feel like you're running away from me."

"I… don't know what to say," he admitted. "I mean, I don't wanna run away from you. But making this anything more than it is… I don't know how to do that."

"Why?"

"Scared…" He said it as if it were a question. As if he were wondering if that was a valid reason to keep someone at arm's length.

"I am, too. But I'm not your dirty little secret. I'm real. I have feelings. And some of them are for you."

"This isn't about keeping secrets, Michonne. I'm tryin' to protect you, and fourteen other people back there."

"Don't use them to justify this. You're trying to protect yourself."

He exhaled heavily as he tried to think before he spoke. This was obviously something that had been bothering her, while he'd done everything in his power to put it out of his mind. He couldn't afford to focus on this. On her. "I can't… be in love with you."

She could feel tears burning in her eyes, but she did her best to keep them from falling. "I'm not asking you to fall in love with me, Rick. I just want a definition. I wanna stop having to run to the woods to fuck you. I wanna be able to hold your hand in front of your son and you not look at me like I'm crazy."

"I get it," he promised. "I do. But I don't think you understand how… I mean, you've already crept in here," he tried to explain, with his fist over his heart. "And the further you get? The less I'm able to control my feelings? It terrifies me."

"And what if you're in mine, too?" She was powerless to stop her tears. She felt them roll down her face, which made her want to cry even harder. "Am I supposed to just ignore this? How do you do that?"

He shook his head in defeat. "I don't know. I didn't plan for this."

"I know you didn't." She wanted to understand so badly. And on a surface level, she did. But deep down, she knew that she wasn't alone in her feelings. The man that found her after the prison fell was a man that was in love. He was just too scared to actualize it. "But I wish you hadn't fucked with my feelings just because you're unsure of your own."

"I wish I hadn't either." He held his hand out, wanting to take hers, but she was the one to decline this time. "I hope you know I would never do anything to purposely hurt you."

"Of course I know that," she sniffled. "Which is what makes this even harder. I can't be mad at you for being scared."

"But you are."

"But I am."

He felt more helpless than ever. How is it that loving her would be their downfall? They were good together, and he knew that. He'd known that since their first time in the tombs, and it only got worse, and better, as time went on.

Hershel had warned him to be careful.  _Be careful with lust_ , is what he said.  _Paired with good timing and a few sentimental words, it regularly transforms into love_. He also said that Rick would never find anyone better than Michonne to love. And Hershel was right. Hershel was always right. But how could he love her when the world wanted nothing but to take away everything he loved? "Michonne…"

"I'd like to be alone now," she declared softly, doing everything she could to avoid his gaze. She needed a minute to cry this one out.

"Yeah," he nodded in understanding. He pulled his gun from his holster, prepared to hand it over to her, but she immediately began to decline. "You shouldn't be out here without a weapon."

"Stop trying to save me, Rick." She wiped away her tears as she shook her head. "You can't be my Superman if I'm your kryptonite."

He didn't want to argue with her anymore. He'd done enough damage, he knew. So he simply hopped down from their mini-mountain and left her to her feelings.

His walk back to their camp was slow, his thoughts filled with questions about what their relationship would turn into. Could they still be friends? Would they be enemies? And what would her relationship with Carl turn into? He knew she wouldn't abandon him, but he also knew that things would inevitably change. He felt like he'd just agreed to a divorce.

_And though I don't need you, I don't need you, I don't need you_  
_I still want you_  
_I don't mean to, I don't mean to, I don't mean to, I don't mean to  
_ _But I love you_

Just as he turned off of the road to head for the back of the church, he noticed a dark-colored Toyota go barreling past him, a simple white cross adorning its back window. It was certainly odd to see a car going so fast these days, but he thought little of it as he headed inside to check on his kids.

* * *

Lyrics: "The Worst" - Jhene Aiko (Sail Out)


	10. Gone Girl

**10 – Gone Girl**

"Hey, Dad. You think Judy would like Pop-Tarts?"

Rick looked up from his daughter and frowned up at his son, holding a box of the tried and true breakfast treat. Blueberry flavored ones. "Where'd you find those?" he chuckled at him.

"Me and Michonne found them a few days ago on our run. I forgot about them 'til today."

"Well you enjoy 'em," Rick consented as he continued feeding Judith her rice cereal. "I don't think your sister needs that much sugar in her diet just yet."

"Oh, but it's cool if I die from diabetes or whatever?"

"Yep."

"I knew you liked her better than me," he joked, shaking his head. He watched her for a moment, enjoying her food, as she always did, with a giant smile on her face. She had always been pretty easygoing, but Carl knew the quickest way to her good side was to feed her. "Do you think we have enough food for her?"

He looked at Carl, unsure of what  _enough_  meant. There was never enough anything, when it really came down to it. "We're runnin' low," he sighed. "She's gonna have to start living on canned vegetables with the rest of us soon."

"That's good, right?"

"It's good that she'll be able to, yeah. Of course."

Carl took a seat next to his dad and sister, excited to bite into his own stale breakfast. "You don't think she'll want to?"

"There's no telling with women, son."

"She's still a baby," he laughed.

"Don't let that innocent face fool you. She's just as complex as the rest of 'em."

He glanced at his sister then at his dad, wondering why he seemed to be in such a strange mood. "Rough night?"

"I didn't sleep all that well."

"Really? It's the first time we've been safe since we left the prison. It seems like everything is okay."

"It is," Rick assured him in a low whisper. "I guess I just worry about all this stuff I'm exposing you and your sister to."

"Dad, you can't keep us from it. The world is what it is now."

"I know," he nodded, softly running his hand over Judith's hair. "That's what plagues me."

"I guess you never get a break from thinking about this stuff, huh," Carl realized. "Even when things are good."

"When things are good is when I think about them the most," he smirked. "Otherwise, I don't have time to think."

Carl nodded as he glanced around the small church. Everyone was mostly still asleep, but he knew what conversation was going to happen once they all awoke. He still didn't know what his dad would say, but he really wanted them to be on the same page before the vote. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you feel about going to DC?"

"Well… " Rick narrowed his blue eyes at the thought of having to answer this question. He knew he would need to pick a side, and soon, but he simply didn't have one at the ready. "How do you feel about it?"

"I think we should go."

"And why is that?" he asked, watching as Judith began to smear rice all over her face.

"I dunno," Carl shrugged. "I just wonder if maybe there's nothing left for us in Georgia. We lost Mom. We lost Hershel. We lost the prison. Maybe it's time to start a new life somewhere else."

Rick nodded and spoke even softer than he had been. "Do you believe Eugene can save the world?"

"I don't know… Should I?"

"I can't tell you what to believe in," he exhaled sharply, looking his son in the eye. "I can tell you that I don't know if I buy it, but I want you to think whatever it is you think."

His inquisitive stare focused in on Abraham and his group, but his thoughts were on his father's words. "I think… it doesn't matter if he can save the world. We're strong, Dad. We've proven that over and over again. I think we can save ourselves."

"You're right," Rick accepted with a small smile, proud of his son for having the intellect to figure that out.

"And Carol says it'll be easier to get around now than it was a year ago. The roads aren't like they were when we left the farm."

"She's right, too…"

"So I think we should give it a try."

"And you're okay with leaving the only state you've ever called home?"

"If it means we find a safer place, yeah," Carl nodded earnestly. "The only thing I  _need_  anymore is you, Judy, and Michonne."

Rick did his best not to visibly react to the fact that Michonne was on Carl's short list. He obviously knew that the two of them were close, but he might've miscalculated just how close they'd become. "Michonne, huh?"

"She's my best friend," Carl confirmed. As he finished his first Pop Tart, he unapologetically went for the second one in the silver wrapping. "Yours, too, I think."

He didn't know how to respond to that. Not after what had happened last night, especially. He needed to change the subject. "Can you look in our bag and see if you see another shirt for your sister."

"Sure." He hopped up to rummage through their bagful of clothes, noticing Michonne's katana tucked safely beside the rest of their belongings. He didn't see her asleep, so he figured she'd probably gone for a walk. But she wouldn't do that without her sword. He grabbed the cleanest top he could find for Judith and sat back down. "Is Michonne here?"

"I assume so," Rick shrugged. "Haven't seen her yet this morning."

"Well what time did you guys come back last night?"

The truth was, he hadn't seen her since they parted ways in the woods. But she wanted to be left alone, so he'd kept his promise to leave her alone while she sorted through her next move. He didn't see her come back, but he hadn't exactly been looking either. "I came back ahead of her," he answered honestly. "She wanted some time to be alone."

"Why?" Carl frowned.

"I don't know," he sighed. "Sometimes, people just need a moment. Like I said, the only time you get to think is when things calm down."

He took a moment to consider this. They had certainly been through a lot in the previous two days, and it culminated with her putting her sword through a living person. It made sense that she would need a minute, he decided. "Do you think she was upset about that guy from yesterday?"

"What guy?"

"The guy she killed."

"No," Rick denied quietly, beginning to change Judith's clothes. "Not particularly."

"Oh…"

"Did somethin' happen besides what you guys told me?"

"No," Carl replied too quickly for Rick's liking.

"Tell me," he commanded. "Now."

"Nothing really happened," he promised. "He was talking a lot and we both told him to shut up, but he wouldn't. So… she did what she had to do."

"Why do you sound like you're lying?"

"I dunno…"

He was obviously leaving out a piece of the puzzle. They were so wrapped up in reuniting with the rest of their group, he hadn't picked up on anything odd at the time. But now, it definitely seemed that Carl and Michonne weren't telling him something. "What was this guy saying?" he decided to ask.

"I dunno, just stupid stuff."

"Like what, Carl."

He let out a nervous exhale. He told Michonne they would keep everything between the two of them – there was no point in telling Rick if the guy was dead. But he felt like his dad needed to know. "Like… he was saying I didn't have to listen to Michonne because she's not my mom. And… I dunno."

"That can't be all he said."

"He said that she was stupid for sitting around babysitting me and Judith. And I think he was trying to say that you're just using her, because she's a good fighter. Stuff like that."

Rick found his hands balled into fists before he knew it. "Is that all?"

Carl nodded. He didn't want to mention the part about them sleeping together. "It didn't seem like it bothered her, but maybe it did?"

Rick had a pretty good idea that it probably had. She didn't mention it, which might've been a good thing, but it could've also meant that she was actively trying to hide it from him. Sharing their insecurities was always hard for them. He looked over as Carl began to stand from their spot. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I was just gonna check for Michonne outside."

"Carl…" he sighed, not wanting him to bother her if she were. She asked for her space, and he owed it to her to let her have it.

"What?"

On the other hand, he also did want to see her. Maybe he would be able to gauge her mood by watching her interact with Carl. Maybe she was feeling better after getting a bit of rest. Yesterday had been an exceptionally long day. Maybe things were all right now. "Nothin'," he relented, deciding to let his son go find her. "Go on." He had begun a round of peek-a-boo with Judith while waiting for him to return, which took a surprisingly short amount of time.

"Glenn's out there. Said he's been out there since dawn and nobody's left," Carl announced with a shrug. "She used to go for her jog around the prison at dawn. Maybe he just missed her."

Rick checked his watch, noting that it was past 7:00 am. It was certainly a possibility, but it was unlikely that she would've gone jogging that long. He wondered if she ever came back the night before. "Maybe so…"

He reclaimed his seat on the floor and offered to take Judith when she reached out for him. "Hey, Dad, if I ask you something, will you be honest with me?"

"Of course," he assured him with a confused frown. "Always."

"Do you love Michonne?"

Rick laughed uneasily, to the point where it sounded as though he were coughing. "What?"

"I mean, I know you love her just like everyone else. But I'm just wondering if it's like… the way you loved Mom kinda love."

That was a hard one to answer. Given everything that had occurred the night before, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. He felt a big, gaping hole in his heart where Michonne used to take up residence. He didn't know how he felt about her now. "Why are you asking me this?"

"Just something I've been thinking about."

"I don't know if we have that kind of relationship," he replied sincerely. "I really don't."

"Well," Carl went on hesitantly. "She loves you. So I think you owe it to her to figure it out."

"And what makes you think that?" Rick smirked.

"She told me."

"She told you what? That she loves me?"

"Yeah..."

"Carl…"

"Hand to God," he held up his hand, signifying that he was telling the absolute truth. "Yesterday, at the cabin. We were talking about stuff, and it just… came up."

"Well…" He didn't know what to say. He was stuck between wondering why she would tell Carl and wishing he had reacted the right way when she told him. "That's nice to know, I guess."

"Dad. Please don't let that be your response if she says it to you."

A _lready fucked that up_ , he thought to himself. "It won't be."

"I know she's not Mom. I don't want to replace her, and couldn't, even if I did. But she's been taking care of us, and we've taken care of her… she's a part of this family. So don't take that for granted is all I'm saying."

Rick nodded absently at his son's assessment. He was so right that it bordered on annoying. "Thanks for the pep talk, son."

"I'm serious."

"You should take your sister and go… read. Or somethin'."

The only book Carl still had in his possession was the last Harry Potter novel, which he'd read more times than he could count, but he obliged, taking Judith outside to sit on the front steps with Glenn.

* * *

Within a couple of hours, most of the group had convened back in the sanctuary, prepared to have the discussion Abraham wanted to have the night before. It was time to decide whether they were taking their show on the road, or if they'd be parting ways then and there.

They all sat in clusters among the church pews, while Abraham stood in the middle of the room, noting that the main person he needed to be there was nowhere to be found. "Where's Rick," he posited, his eyes landing on Daryl. "I ain't waitin' all damn day to have this vote."

"Probably wherever Michonne is," Sasha giggled under her breath in amusement. They were always sneaking off, like no one was supposed to notice.

Daryl glanced over at her with a smirk, but shrugged as he went back to Abraham. "I dunno. I ain't his shadow."

"Does anybody know?" When no one could provide an answer, he became visibly and audibly irritated with the situation. He didn't understand why they didn't understand the urgency of this mission. "I spend all morning fixin' that bus so we can get the hell outta here, and you people can't find your leader?"

"I'm here," Rick declared, strolling through the doors with his son and daughter in tow. He'd been out looking for Michonne, under the guise of taking a walk with his kids, hoping he'd be able to find her before anyone noticed she was gone. "I didn't tell anyone I was leaving. That's my fault," he told Abraham calmly and sincerely. "I'm sorry."

Abe nodded in understanding and walked toward the altar to face everyone. "We ready to do this?"

"No," Rick replied for everyone, quickly scanning through the group to make sure Michonne hadn't returned yet. "We're missing Michonne."

Sasha looked up at his announcement with a frown on her face. "What do you mean 'missing?'"

"It means she's not here, and I don't know where she is."

"How long has she been gone?" Tyreese wondered with a grimace identical to his sister's.

"I don't know…"

Sasha was quickly becoming annoyed with his cluelessness. "Rick…"

"I haven't seen her since last night," he admitted quietly. "Have any of you?" There was a general response of head shaking and looking around in confusion, so he went on. "I don't think she would just leave without sayin' anything, so I have to assume she'll be back. And we're not voting on anything until she does get back."

"And how long is that supposed to be," Abraham asked, his eyes narrowed on Rick.

"I don't know." He hated to sound like a broken record, but all he had was a handful of uncertainty.

"So I'm supposed to just sit around and wait for some indeterminate amount of time for someone you can't say for sure will be returning."

He wanted to say that Michonne wasn't one to just pick up and leave. Or that she would never stay gone too long. But he couldn't. That was practically all she did at the prison. Leave when she wanted, come back when she wanted. "She'll be back," he answered a little more forcefully this time.

"Well, no offense, but I don't have that kinda time, Officer. That bus out there is ready to go, and so is Eugene. Come high noon, it's tail lights for us. Whether you're on that bus, is up to you, sir."

"I'm not makin' any decisions without Michonne," he promised, quickly walking from his end of the church to the front, where the Sergeant stood. He tilted his head, as he often tended to do when he meant business, and his voice got lower as he spoke. "And I'm damn sure not leavin' without her."

Abraham hoisted his rifle over his shoulder, not as a threat to Rick, but as a sign that he was ready to go. "Well you better hope she hurries the holy hell up then."

" _You_  better hope it," Rick shot back, scowling at him. "Unless you plan on leavin' on foot."

"We fixed that damn bus ourselves," he was beginning to yell.

"There's a lot more of us." He glanced back at his people, reminding this man just how many people were standing behind him. "You'd still be in a train car if it weren't for us. We saved your life!"

"And I'm trying to save yours! Save everyone's!" He and Rick were standing face to face now, their crazy blue stares boring holes into one another. "I'm not risking it all for one person. She took off."

"She's coming back," Rick insisted through gritted teeth.

Glenn quickly hopped up from his seat, knowing that things could get ugly fast if no one intervened. "Abraham, he's right," he affirmed, stepping between the two men. "Michonne is a part of this group. She helped saved your life. There would be no way to get to Washington if it weren't for them."

"And I'm grateful for that," he returned calmly.

"Then act like it," Rick snapped back.

"Rick, you can't take their bus," Glenn went on. "They fixed it, it's theirs."

"Glenn…"

"It can be ours. If we join them and go to Washington."

"Fine, we've got one vote for Washington," he nodded, finally beginning to back away from the confrontation. "We'll finish the count when Michonne gets back." With that, he walked off, gone just as quickly as he'd appeared.

He trudged outside, headed back down the route he and Michonne had taken the night before, looking for absolutely any sign of her. Footprints, maybe. Or an old candy wrapper. Anything that said she wasn't far. It was driving him crazy, not having any way to reach her. But he would sit at that boulder all day, waiting for her to come back if he had to. He needed to believe she would be back.

"Ay, Rick!"

He didn't have to turn to know it was Daryl calling after him. He just stopped and waited for his friend to catch up. "She come back yet?"

Daryl shook his head disappointedly. "Nah. But her sword is still back there."

"Yeah, I know," Rick nodded. "We figured that out earlier this morning."

"So then she probably didn't come back last night."

"Probably not…"

"Where'd y'all go? When you left the church last night."

"Out here," he replied hoarsely. He suddenly felt a lump in his throat, having to face the fact that he had likely driven her away. "Just to talk."

They continued through the woods, quickly finding the spot where Rick and Michonne had spent the majority of their good evening turned bad. There was absolutely no sign of her, which left them both to sigh in frustration. Daryl watched his friend lean against the large rock, studying how distraught he seemed by the whole thing. She had only been gone a matter of hours, but Rick was utterly bothered by it all. He didn't know what to say to comfort him, besides the fact that there was no reason to give up yet. "She wouldn't go too far without that sword, man."

Rick shook his head in uncertainty. "I'm not sure she was all that attached to it," he revealed, remembering what she'd said in one of their many private talks. "It reminded her of a lot of bad stuff."

Daryl bit his bottom lip, as he tended to do, trying to think of a response. "It still don't make sense she would just up and leave. She was happy last night."

He closed his eyes, remembering the smile that had been on her face before he took it away. She  _was_  happy at the church, and he ruined it. "We broke up last night."

"You what?" he looked at him, his blue eyes squinting at the information.

"I don't know what to call it," Rick sighed. "I don't know what we were, but it was definitely more than friends."

"I knew it…"

"But she wanted… not more, but… I don't know. Something else. And I couldn't give that to her. I didn't…" He opened his eyes again, unable to stop himself from seeing her when they were closed. "I don't know."

Daryl then understood why he was so upset. He'd been there himself many times, even going back to when Sophia went missing. Even though she had just gotten tragically lost, even though Sasha and Beth were physically taken away, it was nearly impossible to come to grips with. When someone leaves, it's hard not to feel like it's your fault. And in this case, maybe it was Rick's fault. "So maybe she left."

"So maybe she left," he conceded, remembering the car that had gone by the night before. She said she wanted to be alone, but he never considered that she meant permanently. "Maybe she found a car and just… got the hell outta here."

"So maybe we go back to the church and figure out how we get the hell outta here," Daryl offered quietly. "Your kids are back there. You gotta figure out your next step."

Rick nodded, knowing he was right. But for reasons he couldn't quite explain, it all felt wrong. "This doesn't feel right, though. I don't think she would just leave Carl."

Daryl nodded now, figuring that was probably true. He didn't know Michonne as well as Rick did, but he knew enough to know that. "What you wanna do then?"


	11. Slabtown

**11 - Slabtown**

Michonne's eyes flashed open from the deep slumber she'd been in. She felt an immense grogginess wash over her as she tried to place her surroundings, and even worse, she was in pain. Her head was pounding, intensified by the fluorescent light hanging above her. Her body felt so sore, it felt like she'd been hit by a car. She wondered if she was dreaming. How could she possibly be anywhere with lights? And lying in a bed? She looked around, immediately recognizing that she was in a hospital bed, to be exact. It had to be a dream.

Slowly, she pulled herself from the bed, only to find her left wrist wrapped in a cast.  _What the fuck_ , she thought. She had been given a hospital gown, though her undergarments had thankfully remained in place. The first thing she did was check the bathroom to make sure she was alone. Clear. Then the wardrobe, for any of her belongings. Her clothes were all there, dirty as ever, along with a set of scrubs, seemingly clean. But no katana. She frowned at the sight, but her mind quickly flashed to the last thing she remembered. Walking through the woods. She was with Rick, and then she was alone, heading toward the road for better visibility. She never had her katana. This was no lucid dream – this was real.

She made it to the large window adorning her room and pushed back the blinds, finding the city of Atlanta staring back at her. The place was destroyed, having been napalmed nearly two years earlier, but she knew those streets like the back of her hand. She'd worked downtown and lived in midtown before the world ended. She knew, just from the view, that she had somehow ended up at Grady Memorial Hospital.

"Dawn is my favorite time of day," a voice announced behind her, startling her.

She quickly turned to the sound, already feeling threatened by it. A man dressed as a doctor stood before her with a timid smile on his face. He seemed fairly unassuming at first glance, but she knew better than anyone that looks were usually deceiving.

"You okay?" he asked, sounding somewhat genuine in the inquiry. When she didn't respond, he went on. "I'm Doctor Stephen Edwards. We've been taking care of you since you came in this morning."

"Who said I need taking care of?" she shot back, keeping her voice low.

"Our people found you on the side of the road, surrounded by rotters."

"There were no walkers on that road," she knew. She had gotten out of the woods as quickly as she could, knowing she was much more likely to be taken by surprise in the masses of trees. But she had a clear view of that road, and there were no walkers.

The doctor ignored her statement and instead, told her of her injuries. "You fractured your wrist out there. And sustained a superficial head wound." The door to the room swung open, and in walked a police officer – or at least a woman dressed as one – with an obvious mischief in her eye. "This is Officer Dawn Lerner," Dr. Edwards introduced, seeing the confusion on Michonne's face. "She's in charge here."

"Hello," Dawn greeted her coolly.

Michonne didn't speak, but eyed the woman further. None of this felt right, she could tell.

"Can you remember your name?" he asked.

She stared at the two of them for a long time. They hadn't earned the right to know anything about her, not when she was standing there with no answers.

"Do you have a name," Dawn repeated, much more forcefully than the man. Her sharp blue eyes were boring into the woman in front of her. "We're here to help you. That's all."

"I just want to know what you remember," the doctor appended. "If you remember."

"It's Michonne," she relented, but spoke confidently as she silently wondered if anyone else she knew was there. If Rick was there. "Michonne Grimes." Neither of them reacted, so she tried her luck and began to pull her clothes from the closet.

"I hope you don't think you're leaving," Dawn frowned.

"Why wouldn't I think that?" She immediately began to change clothes, despite the two strangers in front of her.

"You can't go anywhere in your condition."

"I'm fine."

"Four hours ago, you were unconscious. You were alone, about to be surrounded. If it weren't for my officers, you'd be one of them right now." Dawn's tone was equally condescending and creepy. "You owe us, Michonne."

As she finished re-dressing, down to her boots and zipping her vest, she stared at the two strangers unaffectedly. Granted, she wasn't clear on all the details of how she'd ended up there, she was certain it wasn't willingly. She could easily outrun a walker. The story they were trying to sell just didn't make sense. "I don't owe you shit."

Dawn stepped forward, challenging her to be any more insubordinate than she had been. "We. saved. you."

"I. don't. need. saving."

"Then you can tell that to my two officers that risked their lives trying to help you."

"Fine. Where are they?"

Dawn was quickly becoming agitated with this woman's attitude. The people they brought into the hospital were appreciative and cooperative. She was the exact opposite. "You wanna leave? Fine. Work off the time you've spent here, the meds we've given you, and you can go."

Michonne looked to the doctor, then back at Dawn, in disbelief that she was serious. But she hadn't been there more than a couple of hours. Maybe that was the easiest way out. If it were a way out at all. "What does that entail?"

"One day. You got any medical experience?"

"No."

"That's fine. Then you can assist Dr. Edwards on his rounds; you're out of here this time tomorrow."

She paused to think about that for a moment. An entire day away from the group, plus however much time it would take to get back to the church. They would worry. But she knew if she was going to get out of there, one way or another, she needed to figure the place out. So she agreed. "Fine. One day."

* * *

Michonne spent the majority of the morning following the doctor around the huge establishment that was Grady. There were sixteen floors to the place, and from what she could tell, four of them were in use. The bottom-most floors were used for dumping dead bodies down the elevator shaft. She gleaned that walkers were also free to roam those halls, so it was important to stay up high. She noted that one floor was for people that were visibly sick or dying; another seemed to be full of solely women; and then another floor with youngsters, mostly teenagers, it seemed, that had probably lost their parents. And then the personnel had a floor to themselves, with a lot of creature comforts, like a cafeteria, an exercise room, a library. She couldn't figure out how they sustained all of this for so long, but it also wasn't something she cared to look into. She would be gone soon.

In her time with Edwards, she decided that she didn't mind him. He seemed to have good intentions, even if his boss didn't. He had a good bedside manner. He was patient, albeit a bit anxious. Everyone but Dawn and the other officers she'd passed seemed like a bunch of nervous poodles. But then, Dawn seemed to rule by fear, so that made sense to her.

By lunchtime, she was starving, but had already decided she wasn't going to eat anything – she didn't want to owe them any more than she did. So she stood by the door of the cafeteria, watching the halls, while Dr. Edwards filled his plate with delicacies from their kitchen. The fact that they had fresh fruits and vegetables from a garden they furnished on the roof reminded her of the prison. But her thoughts were interrupted by one of the hospital's many officers, coming to converse with her.

"You're looking better already," the guy declared with a smarmy grin already on his chubby face. "We had a lead on some guns, so… me and my partner were pretty far out. That's when we saw you… runnin' in the road. Surrounded." He noted that she hadn't looked his way, but decided to keep talking. "When someone does you a favor, it's courtesy to show some appreciation."

She looked back at him with a scowl on her face. She didn't respond.

"I'm Gorman," he declared, trying to elicit a response from her.

Silence.

"All right." His beady eyes ogled her from head to toe and back again. Her body was insane, he thought to himself. "Just remember, everything around here costs somethin', you know."

"I'll remember that next time I ask for something," she returned coldly. She caught sight of the doctor leaving, and turned to follow him.

They went down to his office at the end of the floor designated for personnel, where he spent most of his time listening to music and rereading books. It was messy, but it was his. "Guinea pig," he revealed to Michonne proudly, as he cut into his meal. He turned on a Wye Oak record as accompaniment to their lunch. "You ever try it?"

"I've tried a lot of things," she smirked, "but no, not that."

He cut her a piece and offered it to her. When she declined with a shake of her head, he went ahead and devoured it himself. "I know this place seems weird," he said, chewing, "but it's not a bad place to be."

"You've got music to listen to and a guinea pig to eat. I imagine it's not."

"Where's your food?"

"The more I take, the more I owe," she shook her head again. "I'm fine."

"Sit down," he directed softly, offering the chair that sat across from him. "Dawn doesn't have to know."

"I'm fine," she insisted, but took the seat.

He watched her for a moment, sitting there with a permanent scowl on her face, in her pedestrian clothes. She was someone that knew how to live in this world. She was right when she said she didn't need saving. He didn't know what happened out there on that road, but he was certain that nothing good would come from her being in that hospital. "Where were you before this, Michonne Grimes?"

"I had a group," she admitted hesitantly, then corrected herself. "I have a group. We were talking about heading up north. Was out looking for a car when… whatever happened, happened."

He knew that wasn't true. But he let her keep up the charade anyway. None of it mattered. It's not like they'd been truthful with her either. "You think you'll be able to find them again when you leave here?"

She nodded. "We're close."

"Then why were you out there alone?"

She felt her hands begin to shake as she remembered the answer to that question. Everything that had happened with Rick… She could only chuckle as she realized what a shitty week she was having.

"What's funny?"

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud knock on the door, followed by one of the officers yelling into the room, "Dawn needs you! Now!"

"Come," Edwards told Michonne. The two of them sprung into action, heading up the stairs to the women's floor. They walked into a room where Dawn and the creepy officer, Gorman, were holding down a young woman, no more than 25, with a large bite taken out of her arm. "What happened," he asked.

"You're lucky we found you," Dawn told the woman, chastising her at what qualified as the least appropriate moment. "Whatever you were thinking, it wasn't worth it."

Michonne looked on in a mixture of confusion and horror, watching this woman writhe in agony.

"You have two choices," Dawn told her. "Either you cut off your arm, or we do it for you."

"Fuck you," the woman spat back. She looked back at Gorman with pure hatred in her eyes. "And your little bitch."

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her officer charging towards the patient and immediately sent him away. "Gorman, get out of here!"

"What are you about to do?" Michonne asked Dr. Edwards.

"Give her an anesthetic and take off her arm," he answered succinctly. "I need you to hold her down."

"Get away from me," the woman yelled. "All of you can go to hell. I would rather die!"

"Joan, we're not letting you die," Dawn yelled over her, using all of her strength to keep her in place.

"I'm not going back to him!" she cried.

Dawn looked at her, and with every ounce of sincerity she could invoke, she promised, "You don't have to."

"You can't control them!"

"I will."

"Get off of me," Joan screamed.

Michonne felt sick to her stomach. She didn't know exactly what was going on, but she had enough of an idea to know that whatever it was was fucked up. "She wants you to stop," she told Dawn.

"She's delirious. She doesn't know what she wants."

"Stop." This time, she looked at both the doctor and the officer. "This isn't what she wants."

"I'm not letting her die."

"Let her go." Michonne pushed Dawn off of the suffering patient, hoping that would incite Edwards to back away as well. He did so immediately, understanding more about Michonne than Dawn would ever try to.

She looked at Michonne furiously, and before either of them knew what was happening, her hand went across Michonne's face in a stunning slap. With the headache she'd been nursing, the room went black for a moment, but it was only a few seconds before Michonne replied with a punch squarely to Dawn's jaw, causing everyone to look back at her in shock.

The officer held her newly injured face with one hand and took to her radio with the other. "I need Gorman and Licari in 3012 immediately."

"Leave her be," Michonne commanded, referring to Joan. She regained her composure as the stinging in her face lessened, and calmly walked out of the room, understanding that she would be apprehended within minutes.

* * *

"I get the feeling you think I don't care about these people," Dawn announced, making her way into Michonne's room, where she'd been locked for the past hour. The woman was staring out of the window, but Dawn could see her reflection in the glass. She was sad. "I do."

"I don't think anything about you," Michonne replied softly. "But I won't stand by while you torture someone that wants to die."

"I couldn't let her die. I'll be damned if I'm gonna let that happen again."

She finally turned to face the leader there, wondering what  _again_  meant. The place reminded her of Woodbury – a funhouse disguised as a safe haven. Which meant the person in charge was probably a lunatic. But that didn't mean the people there deserved their fate. "You don't get to choose."

"I have to," Dawn contended, her face relaying how serious she was. "Every sacrifice we make needs to be for the greater good. The second it isn't? The second I lose sight of that, it's all over. Joan is not the greater good." She moved in closer to Michonne, much too close for comfort. "And neither are you, for that matter."

"You need to back up."

"The wards keep my officers happy," she went on, giving her all of an inch of space. "The happier my officers are, the harder they work to keep this going. This hasn't been easy," she admitted. Her eyes visibly began to water as she thought through all the sacrifices she'd forced people to make. "There have been… compromises. But it's working."

"You're torturing people. Everyone here looks terrified."

"No. I'm saving them. And after they rescue us, we're gonna put the world back together. Because we're holding on. That's the good we're doing here."

"Nobody is coming to save you."

"You're wrong."

" _You're_  wrong," Michonne maintained. "I've been out there. I've lived this every day for the past two years. This is all there is—"

"You're jaded," Dawn interrupted. "And I understand that being out there would do that to somebody. But this isn't all there is. It can't be."

Her stance softened a bit as she began to think maybe this woman really did care. Perhaps more about herself than the others, but there was a chance she wasn't all bad. Maybe she just didn't know how to hold it together. "It is," she softly asserted. "It's us, and the dead. And that girl in there understands that. You should've let her go."

Dawn looked down at the floor as she processed Michonne's words. She refused to believe she was right. "If you still plan on leaving in the morning, you should get back to work," she nodded.

"For the record, I do think you care about these people," she assured her. "But I also know I can be wrong about such things."

She accepted the small compliment and headed back for the door. "Please go get a pair of scrubs. I can't have you going around the hospital looking like this," she requested, referring to her normal clothes. "It's all about order."

Michonne was cautious, but allowed herself to give in. It wouldn't hurt her to put on the scrubs for a few hours. In fact, it would be nice to take a shower and be in clean clothes for a change. She headed for the laundry room, where she'd seen a couple of the women earlier in the day, taking on domestic duties. It was another similarity to the prison, having working washing machines. Of course they could only run theirs once a week. This place seemed to be doing laundry daily. She walked in to find a young man, not more than a couple of years older than Carl, ironing a pile of clothing.

"Well if it isn't the troublemaker," he declared with a smile on his face as she came into view. She had only been there about 12 hours, but she had certainly made some waves. "I'm Noah."

She had to stop herself from smiling back at him. Even if she figured she could trust a kid, she could never be sure. "Michonne."

"We all know your name," he assured her, amused. It had been a long time since someone came in that put Dawn on edge. Not since Joan. It was all he'd heard about, all day. "What I do wanna know is how someone like you ended up somewhere like this?"

"I don't really know," she grimaced. She could still only conjure up bits and pieces from the night before, and it was driving her a little crazy. "I was having a bad night," she recalled, deciding that she would trust the kid with the kind smile. "Distracted, I guess. I remember running through the woods, onto the road, and I think I stopped for a minute. I don't know, everything after that gets hazy, and then it just goes blank."

"That sounds about right," Noah nodded, observing a few stray scratches on her neck. "I'm guessing you magically got separated from someone you were with."

"No…" She frowned, remembering that Rick had already left her alone a few minutes before. "Just me."

"I see…"

"I don't know what they did, but I'm just here to work off what I owe, and get the hell out of here in the morning."

He nodded again, a bit aloof suddenly. "I've haven't seen it work like that yet," he revealed quietly, a dismal smirk on his face.

"How long you been here?" she frowned curiously.

"Just about a year now." He turned to show her a long, ghastly scar along his left leg. It had probably required a lot of stitches when it happened. "My dad and I were both pretty messed up when they found us. Said they could 'only save one,'" he described mockingly. "I actually believed that for a while. But now I get it," he nodded. "My dad was bigger. Stronger. Would've been a threat."

She closed her eyes, imagining Carl being separated from Rick. He was so smart, she knew he would be fine, but picturing him in these circumstances still broke her heart. Noah reminded her a lot of Carl, actually. He was obviously very mature, very pragmatic. But Carl would've been a troublemaker in that environment. Like her.

"It's crazy how Dawn just looks the other way," Noah went on with his story, as well as his ironing duties. "She doesn't know how to control these people. That's why I'm outta here when the time is right."

"Where will you go?" she asked, worried.

"Home. Alexandria, Virginia. We had walls there," he proclaimed proudly. "We just came down here, looking for my uncle, me and my dad. My mom's back there in VA." The hope in his voice was palpable, much in the same way Dawn's was when she spoke about being rescued. But Michonne didn't have the heart to tell him the reality of things. "They think I'm scrawny," he said. "They  _think_  I'm weak… But they don't know shit about me."

"You make sure it stays that way," she advised. She felt her armor softening the more he spoke to this kid. She needed to get out of there. She turned to look for a new set of scrubs, but his voice stopped her.

"What about you? Where are you headed?"

"Back to my group," she answered simply. "We don't have walls or anything. But we have each other."

He thought about what a nice feeling that must've been, to feel like you had someone to count on. He hadn't had that in a year now. "They must be crazy worried about you then."

"I hope not…"

"Kids?"

"What?"

"You got kids? You don't want them to worry about you?"

"Oh…" She felt speechless for a moment, her brain insisting that she stop and think about her answer. She thought of Carl, who she knew was likely concerned by now. That was what he did. Even when she left the prison with promises that she would be back, he was always so relieved when she actually did return. She wanted to say that yes, she did have kids. A son named Carl, not much younger than him, and a baby Judith, both of them with eyes like the sky. Like their dad. But she decided against it and shook her head. "No. No kids."

"Well… until you do get outta here, you gotta stop fighting. They always kill the strong ones eventually," he divulged woefully. "You gotta fake it 'til you make it."

She let her eyes fall on the young man, feeling sorry for how lost he seemed. He'd told himself 'one day' so many times, he didn't realize he was a part of that place now. And the possibility that that could be her one day, like one of those women on the floor upstairs, dismally pushing mops around. She swallowed hard, trying to hold her emotions together. "I truly hope you do get out of here, Noah."

He looked up from his task with a sad smile. "I hope you do, too, Troublemaker."

She quietly left the room without her scrubs.

* * *

"What the hell were you thinking, bringing her here?" Dawn was standing over two of her officers, Gorman and Andrews, berating them for the disorder that had been brought to her hospital, in the form of Michonne Grimes. "Does she look like someone who can help our cause!"

"Honestly," Gorman responded, "Yeah. Some chick cryin' on the side of the road looks like an easy target to me."

"What do you mean," she demanded.

"She popped outta the woods. Looked like she bent over to catch her breath, but she popped a squat and started cryin'. Perfect opportunity," he smirked. "She put up a little fight, got her wrist broken. But it didn't take much more'n usual. Hell, everyone's weak when they're blacked out."

"She's not weak," Dawn snapped back. "She's anything but weak."

"It'll take a little breaking in," Andrews piped up. "But she'll crack. She's just as scared as the rest of 'em."

Dawn shook her head in disagreement. She knew the policy, for the most part, was to save the women and discard the men, but she could see it in this one's entire demeanor. She was defiant because she had reason to be. She was strong. She looked at her two officers, worried for what they'd just done to her system. "You two better be right."

* * *

Meanwhile, Michonne used her break time to go see the woman she'd tried to save. Joan. She could still hear her screams in her head –  _I would rather die. You can't control them_. She didn't know what it all meant, but if someone would rather die than be under a roof with food and protection, there was something wrong. She walked into Joan's room cautiously, finding her asleep, and her eyes immediately focused in on the missing part of her right arm. Even if she knew they'd done it anyway, it still bothered her to see. To see someone have a death wish and not have it granted. She took a seat in the bed across from her and just stared at the woman. So young. So angry and scared.

"You're a good person," Joan croaked out, having felt Michonne's presence in the room. "Thank you."

Michonne stood, walking closer to her bed so she wouldn't have to strain to see her. "I didn't do anything," she replied softly. Disappointedly.

"You tried." Her eyes relayed her appreciation more than her words could. "Nobody stands up to them. Not even Dawn."

"The officers?" she questioned, confused. She had to know what the problem was if it wasn't Dawn. Everyone seemed to think she was helpless in this, including Dawn herself, but she couldn't figure out why. "What can't she control them from?"

With the one hand she had left, Joan grabbed Michonne by the arm and pulled her close. "Don't let them win," she begged quietly. "No matter what, don't let him win."

She didn't know what Joan meant, specifically, but it was clear that things were even worse than they appeared at first glance. She had every intention of getting out of there, be it tomorrow or the next day, so 'them' winning was not an option. She offered her a small nod and a promise. "I won't."


	12. FourFive Seconds

**12 – FourFive Seconds**

_I never knew_  
_I never knew that everything was falling through_  
_That everyone I knew was waiting on a cue  
_ _To turn and run when all I needed was the truth_

"So what you wanna do?"

Rick's blue eyes flashed up at Daryl, conveying his ambivalence. "You don't have a dog in this fight?"

Daryl shrugged and shook his head. "I dunno the answer, man. You know her better than me."

"Do I?" he wondered out loud. He knew the answer to that - of course he did. But he felt like he didn't know anything in that moment.

"What's the last thing she said to you?"

"She wanted to be alone," he nodded, recalling how awful he felt hearing those words. She also said he couldn't save her anymore, but he decided against mentioning that part. "Did she mean for a few minutes? A few hours? A day?"

"And you were bein' too much of an asshole to look out for her." He caught Rick immediately glare back at him, so he added, "I'm sayin', I know exactly how that feels. That's what happened when they took Sasha and Beth. So busy tryin' to drink shit away..."

His eyes narrowed at Daryl's words. The idea of her being taken had been at the back of his mind, but he hadn't entertained it too seriously. She had been gone a matter of hours. But of course, it only takes a second. One wrong move, one bad decision, and it can be over. His jaw tightened and his hands began to quiver as he looked to the ground for clues. "These are her footprints, right?" he asked Daryl, having found a set that led to the right, towards the road.

"Yeah," the tracker confirmed, taking the lead on following them. He walked slowly and deliberately beside them, looking for any sign of where she could be.

Rick trailed closely, his breath caught in his throat as he watched the patterns in the leaves as well. He wasn't as good as Daryl at tracking, but he would be able to tell if she came across a walker, at least. Suddenly, his biggest fear was the idea that she'd been bitten, turned, and wandering aimlessly. His mind was racing, immediately sick to his stomach.

Daryl could hear Rick's stuttered breathing over the crunch of the leaves under their feet. He looked back to his friend, worried. "You all right?"

"I'm fine," he lied, still studying the ground. They continued for another half mile or so, until the arrangement in the leaves changed a bit. "Does it look like she started running?"

"It does," Daryl agreed, squinting at the surrounding area. Still no other footprints, just hers. "I can't figure out why."

"She probably heard a walker."

"Maybe so. Maybe it was far away."

"She didn't have a weapon," he sighed shakily. "Probably thought running was her best option."

"You mean she didn't have anything?" Daryl frowned. "No knife?"

"Not unless she found one..."

He immediately began to walk again, faster now, so they could get to the road, and maybe figure out what her next move was. He wasn't fond of mysteries, and really wanted to solve this one as soon as possible. He reached the asphalt, but the leaves were so scattered, it was hard to tell anything. "She could've gone either way," he declared in defeat and frustration. "Seems like she would've gone left, back towards the church but..."

"But maybe she was looking for a car," Rick suggested distractedly. His eyes zoomed in on something shiny amongst the leaves, and he stooped to the ground to examine it. A fine gold chain laid in the ground, broken, with the letter 'M' attached to its center. He held the necklace close to him, and tears streamed down his face as he confirmed for himself that Michonne was in danger. This wasn't Lori taking the picture albums from their home. Or Carl taking all his clothes from the prison. Michonne hadn't left on her own terms. He swallowed hard, wiped his tears, and stood to face his friend. "How did you know Sasha was taken?"

"I saw it," Daryl admitted gruffly. "They called for me. I was guessin' they needed help with some walkers so I grabbed my bow. By the time I got out there, just saw a car drivin' off."

"What kind of car?"

"Some kinda Dodge. Magnum, maybe. Dark color, black… maybe blue or gray. Had a white cross on it," he revealed finally, triggering Rick to look at him wide-eyed. "I ran after it for a couple miles, but I lost it..."

Rick had already begun walking back towards the church, silently willing Daryl to follow him. "Did Sasha tell you anything about it? Where it was going? How they got out?"

"Yeah," Daryl confirmed, having to run to catch up to his friend. "They told her they were headed to Atlanta. She said it was two people dressed as cops."

"I saw a car go by last night with a white cross on it," Rick told him, beginning to run faster, needing to get back to the church as quickly as possible. "I'm goin' to Atlanta."

_But that's how it's gotta be_  
_It's coming down to nothing more than apathy_  
_I'd rather run the other way than stay and see the smoke  
_ _And who's still standing when it clears_

When he made it inside the church, everyone was still in the same positions he'd left them in, sitting in pews, waiting for him to return with Michonne. Or at the very least, an update. He took a deep breath, knowing Carl would hate hearing what he had to say, but he didn't have any time to waste.

"All right, listen up," he heralded, walking nervously towards the front of the church. Carl had a front row view, sitting solitarily with his baby sister. Rick took a deep breath, blinked back tears, and called his son over. "Carl, come here for a second."

He did as told, but those big blue eyes couldn't help but convey his confusion and inquisitiveness. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's gonna be fine," he promised, needing to believe it was true for himself. He held his son close, and by extension, his daughter, as he made his announcement. "From what I can tell, it looks like Michonne has been taken." He nodded nervously at the gasps and frowns he received in reply. "I know. I know." He pulled Carl closer as he went on. "We have reason to believe she's been taken to Atlanta. By the same people that tried to get you," he directed towards Beth and then Sasha. "So I'm gonna need you to tell me everything you know about these people, and we're gonna find her." He hadn't stopped nodding since he began talking. He felt like a bobble head, trying to convince himself that this was possible. "We're gonna find her."

Carl took a deep breath, ingesting all of the information he'd just heard. Michonne was gone. She was really gone. "It'll be all right, Dad," he stated matter-of-factly, staring up at him. He could tell Rick was scared, which he wasn't used to seeing. Not since he and Maggie walked out of the prison with a newborn Judith and without his mom. He looked just as lost then as he did now. "We're gonna find her."

_Everyone knows I'm in over my head_

He squeezed his son's shoulder, proud of him for always being so fearless. "Sasha, Beth, can I talk to you two in private?" The two ladies quickly hopped up from their seats, following Rick to a spot behind the altar where they could have a relatively isolated conversation. Daryl stood close by with Carl. "I didn't want to put you on the spot in front of everyone," Rick explained, speaking softly, "but I need to know  _everything_  that happened when you were abducted."

Sasha nodded vehemently, and began to think of all the details, big and small, about their kidnappers. "It was the same night the prison fell," she started. "Extremely dark, and Beth and I were fighting a few walkers that had come up to the funeral home we were staying at."

"And out of nowhere, this car comes up, knocks Sasha off her feet," Beth added, remembering how horrified she was to see it happen. "This really tall guy comes out, grabs her and pulls her into the backseat. I tried to scream for Daryl, but a woman came after me, put her hand over my mouth, and everything went black."

_Over my head_

Rick scratched at his eyebrow, trying to keep his thoughts from running rampant.  _Hit by a car. Probably drugged_. "What time do you think it was?" he asked.

"Had to be past midnight. We'd been at that funeral home for hours. Were about to go inside when the walkers came up," Sasha frowned.

"Go on."

They went on to explain how they woke up to two officers, casually driving them towards Atlanta. They never got the chance to specifically find out where they were headed, but their best guess was some police or fire station. "We killed them, left them on the side of the road, and drove right back here," Sasha finished, tracing back through her story to make sure she told him everything he could possibly use. "There wasn't much gas left in the car. I imagine wherever we stopped couldn't have been too far from their final destination."

"Where did you stop?"

"We were near the airport," Beth inserted positively. She could remember the signs for Hartsfield as they drove back towards the funeral home.

"Then they were probably taking you towards the city."

"I think so," Sasha confirmed. "Said they had lots of resources. I don't know where else that could be."

"All right. Thank you," he nodded sincerely, already moving towards Daryl to confer with him. "Downtown," was all he said.

_With eight seconds left in overtime, she's on your mind_

Daryl gave a slight gesture of understanding. "We need a car."

"We can take the bus," Rick returned offhandedly. "But we don't need the whole group. Just you and me, maybe Bob."

"And Sasha," he suggested with a nod. In part, because he didn't want to leave her, but mostly, he knew how much of an asset she was. "We'll need her."

"And Sasha," he agreed.

Carl stood beside the two men, having put Judith in her makeshift bassinet. "And me," he declared assertively.

Rick looked at his son with a big sigh. "Carl…"

"I'm going," he added, before his father could truly protest. "There's nothing you can say that can stop me."

"I can just say, 'No.'"

"Why not?"

"It's not safe," he answered simply. "Atlanta is still full of walkers; not to mention, we have no idea who these people are, or how dangerous they can be."

"Yeah, but nowhere is safe. Michonne was taken from  _here_ ," he reminded his dad. "And they have no idea who we are, or how dangerous we can be either."

"Carl…"

"I respect you, Dad, and if it were anyone else, I would listen to you. But it's Michonne. I  _have_  to go.

Rick looked at Daryl, not getting anything from him besides indifference, and then back at his son. He couldn't bear the thought of taking a chance with his son's life.

"There's no way you can look at all the things we've been through, all the things I've done, and still think I can't handle this," Carl implored him. "I've made it through all the same stuff you have, Dad, and I'm still here."

"I can't let you risk your life."

"That's all we do, every single day. And you know what? Michonne would do it for me in a heartbeat." He propped his hat over his head and looked his father in the eye. "I'm not gonna let her down."

_She's on your mind_

Rick had to admire his gumption, but he still had no plans on letting his kid head into the belly of the beast that was Atlanta. "Give me a minute," he offered, seeing Abraham's quick approach to the three of them. He cut him off at the pass. "Can I help you?"

"No disrespect to you or your people, but I'm not sittin' around here waiting for the other shoe to drop," he announced seriously to Rick and the rest of the group. "I'm leavin' in exactly one hour."

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that," Rick shook his head, already knowing that this wouldn't go over well. Abraham was being an asshole about this mission before he knew people were being snatched left and right. "I need that bus now."

"And I can't let you do that, sir. I have to get Eugene's ass outta here before the kidnapping cavalry decides to come back this way."

"I don't think you understand," Rick returned. His eyes were both pleading and threatening the man before him. "I  _need_  that bus."

"I understand this is an important mission for you, but me getting Eugene to Washington is the only thing that matters to me. The  _only_  thing."

Rick swallowed hard. If he was irritated before, he was going to be irate soon. He didn't have time to look for another car. He didn't have time to stand around arguing with this man either. Michonne needed him. "Please," he quietly submitted, attempting to appeal to his heart. "If Eugene was out there, you'd do anything to get to him, wouldn't you?"

"I wouldn't have let him out of my sight," Abraham shot back, eyeing Rick frigidly.

Recognizing that this man was unwilling to compromise, Rick took a step back and did a quick calculation of how far he wanted to take this. It didn't take long for him to decide he was done playing games. "Gimme the keys, Abraham."

He immediately chuckled at the demand, as if he were joking. "I suppose you think you can take me."

"My dad isn't scared of you," Carl inserted, taking a couple of steps forward.

"Stay back," Rick instructed, quickly moving to stand in front of his son to keep him out of the way, just in case. His eyes darted around the room, looking for Judith. She would be the only reason he didn't punch this guy in the face. "Give me the keys," he repeated in a low growl.

"No."

A semi-circle seemed to have formed, everyone's eyes on the two of them. Rick's right hand rested on his .357, his fingers tapping at the grip as he stared Abraham down. Carol must have read his body language, because she pulled Judith from her basket and immediately headed outside with Tara. "Keys," he ordered for the third and final time.

"You can ask as many times as you want," he laughed again.

Rick immediately threw a fist his way, watching the big man stumble backward, and then pulled out his gun, aiming it at Abraham's forehead. "I'll do this," he promised. The timbre of his voice was so calm that it was creepy.

"Rick," Tyreese called after him, feeling like he'd gone a bridge too far.

"Don't make me do this."

If looks could kill, Abraham's certainly would've murdered Rick in that moment. His eyes were burning through the man holding him at gunpoint. But he didn't make any moves – he knew Rick was serious when he said he would do it.

"Rick," Daryl was attempting to interrupt now. "We don't need the keys. We don't even need the bus."

"We don't have time for anything else," he insisted. He had already wasted enough time as it was. He couldn't use any more to go look for a car and then find gas. He needed to go. "I need to save her," he told Abraham sincerely. His hands were shaking again. They did that whenever he entertained the thought of where she could possibly be. "I need that bus."

Abraham belligerently pulled the keys from his pocket, still glaring at Rick. "You better love this woman," he said, handing over the keys. "You're obviously willin' to die for her."

Rick still stood there, ignoring Abraham's overt threat on his life.

"Rick, you gotta put the gun down," Daryl inserted nervously when his friend hadn't moved. "He gave you the keys."

"Dad?" Carl frowned, seeing his father seemingly frozen in place.

"Rick!"

_And everyone knows I'm in over my head_  
_Eight seconds left in overtime  
_ _She's on your mind, she's on your mind_

Rick felt paralyzed as he stood there, with a gun to this man's head, over a bus. Of course, it was more than the bus. It was Michonne. It was the mistakes he'd made. It was the fact that he had no idea how he was going to fix this, and this guy only wanted to make it harder. But at the end of the day, he absolutely would've killed him for her. He nodded absently as he came to all of these conclusions. As he came back to life. "I do," he confirmed, much to everyone's surprise. "I'm sorry I had to do that. But I do love her." He exhaled sharply as he returned his gun to its holster. "And I need to save her."

_Everyone knows she's on your mind_  
_Everyone knows I'm in over my head_  
_I'm in over my head  
_ _I'm over my…_

* * *

Lyrics: "Over My Head (Cable Car) – The Fray (How to Save a Life)


	13. Screaming, Crying

**13 - Screaming, Crying**

Michonne was in Joan's room again, having spent most of the night with the young woman to keep her at ease. They talked for some of that time, but mostly just kept one another company. Joan spoke of her old life, back in New Orleans, where she lost her mom and boyfriend on the same night, before they really knew what was going on. She explained that she came to Atlanta early on, looking for refuge. She'd been holed up at Philips Arena for a while before things got bad. Really bad. And then she'd spent the past year wandering around downtown Atlanta before the officers found her.

Michonne was trying to be a good listener, as that's what she usually was. But the stories had become old hat by then. Everyone had one, and they were all so sad. Always some version of,  _I lost everyone I loved until I ended up here._  She had been there several times over. The bottom line – the apocalypse sucked.

Still, she was going to tell Joan about how she ended up there, until Gorman came, interrupting their conversation with his usual grimy antics. He stood in Joan's doorway with a clipboard in his hand, giving Michonne a long glance before he spoke. "You still plannin' on gettin' outta here this mornin'?"

She frowned, knowing he was likely about to say some bullshit, but answered him anyway. "Yeah…"

"Well then you better come on then."

She looked over to Joan, who was obviously avoiding everything about the man's presence, and then turned back to him. She had just punched their leader in the face just a few hours earlier. Her still being allowed to leave on her terms seemed like a long shot. "Where's Dawn?" she wondered out loud.

"Probably in her office," he shrugged, a knowing smirk on his face as he dropped his clipboard. "I'm s'posed to walk you on out, but you can stay if you want to."

Michonne rose from her spot, not wanting to lose her chance if this was really it. But she remained wary as she squeezed Joan's hand and headed out of the room.

"It's pretty quiet out there right now," he noted as he led her down the hallway. He was referring to the walkers in the streets, but the hospital was also silent as a grave in the early morning. The sun hadn't even come up yet, and it was obvious. The sound of their footsteps was the only sound there was. "You oughta be all right gettin' outta here."

She didn't respond, but kept her eyes on the creepy officer. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, and she wasn't going to be thrown by all his jabbering.

"You need to stop by your room for anything?" he asked, turning back to her.

"No," was all she said in reply. She had everything she came in with, which was nothing.

He eyed her just long enough to feel threatening, then turned abruptly for the door to the staircase. "After you, Grimes."

Michonne reached her hand over her shoulder, expecting to find her katana in her hands. She kept forgetting that she didn't have it. It was like a phantom limb, tricking her into thinking it was still by her side. She decided to go on by anyway, not at all surprised when Gorman's hand managed to graze her ass. She glared back at him, even more incensed when he pretended that it was an accident.

"Sorry, darlin'."

She almost pulled out the scalpel she'd stolen, to give his face a good swipe, but she didn't want to do anything to divert her escape from that godforsaken place.

"I don't know what Joan told you," he went on, following her down the steps. "But I ain't all that bad."

Joan hadn't told her anything, really, beyond warning her to be careful. She could guess what it meant, but he was giving himself away. She began to quicken her pace, just a little.

"You ain't gotta walk so fast. I'm not gonna bite."

She did need to slow down. She was hungry, and therefore weaker for it. She knew she would stumble if she wasn't careful.

Gorman grabbed her arm now, smiling at her as she turned back at him. "Slow down."

"Let go of me," she demanded, trying to snatch her arm back. When he didn't lose his grip, she knew exactly what this was. She took a deep breath and swallowed visibly, unsure of whether she could take him. He was a fairly large piece of shit. "Let me go," she repeated.

He moved down to the step she was on, effectively trapping her against the wall; the banister was digging into her back. "There's nothin' to be afraid of, darlin'. It's just a transaction between two people."

Her one good hand gripped the railing tightly, trying to hold onto her balance, along with her sanity, but she was shaking, and she couldn't stop. He was so close to her, she could feel his erection against her thigh, and the mere thought made her want to throw up in his face. "Get off of me." She was so calm when she said it, there was no way he could have any idea how much rage was bubbling underneath the surface.

He did quite the opposite. His hands went up her sides, squeezing her breasts as he licked his lips. "Everything around here costs somethin'," he said. He then went underneath her shirt, feeling her skin and the simultaneous hardness and softness of her taut stomach.

She nodded, knowing what she would have to do. "What am I paying for?"

He roughly unbuttoned her pants and began to pull them down while she tried to fight him off. "You're payin' for your safety," he said as if he were reminding her that they had some prearranged agreement to this.

"Get the fuck off of me," Michonne began to shriek through gritted teeth, trying to stop him. She wanted to stay composed, and simply think her way out of the situation, but she couldn't. It was all happening so fast. She could feel his hands on her skin, inside her underwear, and she was absolutely sick. Hot tears rolled down her face when she couldn't stop him.

"Don't fight it," he said, beginning to unbutton his own pants.

That was her chance. A tiny moment of distraction would have to be his undoing. She wasn't going to let him win. As he fumbled with his zipper, she leaned into his neck, allowing him to think she was giving in. But she took a page from Rick and sunk her teeth into his throat, pulling out as big a chunk as she could. She immediately spit it out and blindly went for another bite, before he could realize what was happening. Just in case one wasn't enough. It was much more difficult than she expected it to be, but she needed this to work.

She furiously wiped at her tears as she watched him grab his neck and look at her in shock. Blood was everywhere, and he tried to speak, probably to call her some misogynist name, she figured, but he couldn't. He just collapsed to the floor. She did the same, wanting to cry, wanting to scream in frustration and fear.

She gave herself a minute, and then stood back up on her feet. She had no time to waste feeling sorry for herself. She needed a plan. She needed to go. She pulled out her lowly scalpel and stabbed Gorman in the head several times to keep him from reanimating, and then started down the staircase quietly. She knew each of the lower floors were guarded, but if no one came when they heard her scream, she hoped maybe no one was up yet. Or maybe they were just used to the screams.

"Fuck," she mumbled to herself, spitting blood with every step she took. She wiped her face with her arm and tried to shake away her nerves. She didn't know how Rick was so calm after doing that. That was a gruesome way to kill someone.

As she reached the following floor, she was immediately proven wrong about the guards. She could tell from her spot above them that there were at least three before she would make it to the ground floor. And being covered in blood, she wouldn't even be able to talk her way past them. Was there no way out of that place? Would she have to just wait for Rick to find her? She knew he would, but she wasn't sure if she could stand it. She wanted to cry again, but she stopped herself.

"God, I wish you were here, Grimes," she whispered sadly. She felt invincible next to him.

But the fact was, Michonne Dillard was pretty invincible without him, too. She would take down that hospital on her own, if she had to.

* * *

Michonne had made her way up to the kids' wing of the hospital, looking for Noah's room. It was still early, so she was lucky to find the halls still empty, but it made it much more difficult to find him. She hesitantly glanced into window after window until she finally found the young man, preparing to start his day. She lightly knocked on his door, and then barged her way in once he answered. She couldn't be in that hallway too long. It was all so risky.

Noah looked at her with horror in his eyes, seeing her covered in blood. "What happened to you?"

"I'm fine," she answered, dismissing his concern. "This isn't my blood."

"Whose is it?" he frowned, his big brown eyes still wide.

"Can I trust you?" she asked pressingly, her eyes pleading with him to say yes.

"You can," he promised, understanding the seriousness of the situation. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew, in just one conversation, that Michonne was one of the good ones. "You can."

"Okay. Then you have to trust me, too."

"I do."

"You wanna get outta here?"

He eyed her carefully, wondering what she could be talking about. She still hadn't answered why she was covered in blood, and now she was plotting some sort of escape. "What's goin' on?"

"This is your only shot," she explained quickly and quietly. "If you wanna go, if you're serious… I need you to get everything you wanna take with you, and follow me."

"I'm ready," he shot back immediately. He didn't need his old clothes or whatever trinkets he'd collected in the past year. Just a way out. He immediately threw on his Nikes and met Michonne back at his door. "Let's go."

The two of them swiftly snuck to the nearest staircase, and she led him down to the spot where she'd killed Gorman. The scene was brutal, looking back on it. A man surrounded by a pool of his own blood, and chunks of his flesh sitting beside him. The walls and railing were covered in her bloody handprints. It looked like a massacre had taken place.

"You did this?" Noah asked, obviously unnerved by the sight.

"Listen to me," she said, seeing his hesitation written all over his face. "This had to happen. I promise you."

He nodded nervously and stepped over Gorman so that he was standing beside Michonne. "So are we cleaning this up?"

"No." She grabbed the officer's gun, as he'd no longer be needing it, and gave it to Noah. "When you get out of here, you get as far away from here as you can, okay?"

"You're not coming?"

"I can't," she shook her head. "There's no way out for both of us."

"We can find a way…"

"We don't have time. I have to use this before someone finds him."

He looked down at the mess again, and she was right – she couldn't hide it for long. "Why are you doing this? Why me?"

She sighed heavily, wiping her face again. "Because… I dunno. If I had a son like you, I would want someone to help him." Images of Carl came up again, and she knew that that was definitely what she would want. "So you have to go."

"But… what are you gonna do?"

"My friends are coming," she nodded knowingly. If she didn't know anything else about Rick, she knew that. "In the meantime, I'm gonna fuck some shit up," she smiled at him sadly.

"You really are crazy," he smiled back. "No one is about to find you here."

"Rick is." She stooped down to Gorman's body to find a knife to give to the kid as well. "Rick woke up to this world after being in a coma for three weeks. His wife and son were gone, fifty miles away, here in Atlanta. But he found them." She gave him the knife and continued her quick story. "Two of his people were kidnapped by some random assholes he'd never heard of, but he went in, guns blazing, and he found them," she explained. "And when our home was taken, and we lost all our friends… we found them." She nodded as she convinced herself that she couldn't leave. Rick was coming for her. She'd wrestled with it all night, how long she would have before they came. Whether she should get out while she could, or wait for him. "He's coming," she assured Noah. "So don't you worry about me."

He looked at her hesitantly. She seemed to know what she was talking about, but he still couldn't help but think there was a way for both of them to get out. "You really are a troublemaker, Troublemaker."

"I know." She gave him a small grin, but she knew it was time for them to go. "As soon as I walk outta here, you go down and you wait for those guards to leave, all right? And then you move as fast as you can. And you shoot, or you run."

"I got it."

"I'm serious, Noah. You won't have a lot of time. I'll try to distract them as long as I can, but you have to go," she pleaded. "You shoot, or you run."

He nodded, assuring her that he wouldn't fail her. Her sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. He would run for his life. He watched her grab Gorman's leg, and gave her one last look of thanks. "Be careful?"

"You, too."

She took a deep breath and began her ascent up the steps and onto the floor where Dawn would be. Michonne was never one to make a ruckus, but she needed to in order to give Noah any chance at getting out of there.

She dragged Gorman's lifeless body down the hallway, his blood creating a morbid trail as she walked. "Dawn Lerner!" she yelled as loudly as her tired body would allow. "Where is Dawn Lerner!"

Soon, doors opened, and occupants came to witness the scene. There were few things that were shocking in this world anymore, but seeing a woman, with her face covered in blood, drag a corpse down a hospital corridor, screaming at the top of her lungs, was certainly one of those sights.

"Dawn!" she screeched and it was nearly bloodcurdling. Just as she expected, several officers and guards were at each end of the hallway before she knew it. She hoped Noah was gone. "Where's Dawn," she asked the officers ahead of her.

"She's on her way," the officer known as Lamson told her calmly. "Just stay with us."

"You can tell her I'm not going anywhere," Michonne replied just as coolly. "I suggest you don't get too close to me."

"It's okay, Michonne," he said, inching towards her. "No one's gonna hurt you."

"Shut the fuck up," she snapped, turning back to make sure no one was sneaking up behind her. The trail of blood she saw was pretty horrific. But what else was she supposed to do? She wasn't going to let him win. "You people and your fucking greater good."

A door slammed, and Dawn was on the scene, walking through her bevy of officers to see what was going on. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she came face to face with what her ward had done. "You're insane," she marveled, staring at where Michonne had obviously stabbed the man in the face several times. "Why would you do this?"

"Me?" She held back tears as she walked up to the leader. The supposed leader, anyway. She hocked up a wad of saliva, mixed with Gorman's blood, and made no hesitation of spitting it in Dawn's face. She no longer cared what they did to her. "Fuck you."

* * *

Several hours later, Michonne awoke in a very similar fashion to the way she had the day before. In a bed, in pain, unsure of where she was. It took her much less time to gather her surroundings, but her head was pounding. Her face hurt. And when she tried to touch what she believed to be bruises, she realized that she was tied down.

"I thought we understood each other, Michonne," she heard a voice declare. Dawn's voice. "I thought it was clear that if I stayed out of your way, you would stay out of mine."

She looked to her left to find the woman sitting in a chair near the door, staring back at her intently. She wanted nothing more than to spit in her face again, but that obviously wasn't going to happen, so she just turned towards her window.

"What am I supposed to do with you now? How do I let you live?"

"How do you live with yourself," Michonne shot back quietly.

"I am doing my best here," Dawn maintained. She really seemed to believe that, and it was driving everyone around her crazy.

"Your best is letting these women get raped?" She turned back to the officer, challenging her to contend that she really believed the nonsense she was spinning. "You're enslaving teenagers, making them think they have no way out? Fuck you, Dawn." She looked up to the ceiling as she tried to rein in her emotions. These people didn't deserve them. "You may as well kill me now, because I'm never gonna accept this. I'm never going to forgive you for sending that man after me. After Joan."

"Michonne…" Dawn sighed, feeling genuine empathy for these women, and what she'd allowed herself to deem acceptable. She understood why they were angry. But the system was so fragile. It was going to topple over, and no one seemed to understand that. She went over to Michonne and released the grips on her arms. "We can fix this place," she whispered, letting her know that she was still willing to trust her. "You and me… we can."

Michonne frowned at her, unsure of what the hell she was talking about. She was about to say as much, but the room was interrupted by Dawn's radio.

" _Dawn. We've got a 10-57 on Noah. Hasn't been seen all morning. We also can't get a hold of Andrews."_

Dawn quickly walked away from Michonne with a look of concern on her face. Noah was her best and brightest ward, but she couldn't have another one of her officers go missing. O'Donnell and Shepherd went out one day and never came back. She couldn't let that happen again. She held her radio, but kept her eye on Michonne as she spoke. "We can't take any chances since O'Donnell and Shepherd," she reminded her officer. "Find Andrews first, and then look for Noah."

Michonne had to contain a smile at the fact that Noah had gotten out. She was so happy for him. Relieved.

"I have to go," Dawn announced, heading for the door. "We'll continue this later."

She was so glad to watch that delusional woman leave, she didn't care that she had locked her in the room. That was no surprise. But until she returned, she could take solace in the fact that Noah would never have to deal with that crazy place again. He was free.

She went to her door, staring out of her window to see the uproar she'd caused. Officers running back and forth. The wards were all so confused. She loved it. She couldn't keep the small smile off of her face. This place was going down.

But then, her world came crashing down as she watched a gurney come rolling down the hall. At first glance, she wasn't sure, thought maybe she was seeing things, confusing things. She was tired, after all. But as the stretcher moved past her door, there was no mistaking the teenager lying on it. It was Carl.

Her heart began to race as she fell to the floor. This time, she didn't hold back any of her tears.


	14. Perfect Storm

**14 – Perfect Storm**

"Let me out!"

Michonne was screaming at the top of her lungs as she watched officers run by, one by one, all of them ignoring her demand. She banged on the door, then the window. She pulled at the handle with hopes of pulling it off, but it was much more sturdy than herself. She was running on no food and little sleep, causing her to realize she was no match for that insane asylum disguised as a hospital. But still, she needed to find Carl. She needed to take care of him.

"Help!" she yelled when she saw Dr. Edwards coming down the hallway.

With a frown, he approached her door and asked, from outside of it, "Why are you screaming?"

"Let me out of here," she begged with an uncontrollable lip quiver. "Please."

"You have to calm down," he told her. He unlocked the door and carefully stepped into her room, not allowing her any sort of opportunity to burst out of it. "You're in a lot of trouble, you know." He stood there waiting for her to respond, but nothing came out. "If you just wait a bit, until things calm down, I may be able to get you out of here in once piece."

She let out a small sigh, relieved that the doctor was still somewhat sane. Or pretending to be, anyway. She knew Dawn and the rest of her people were out of their minds, but Edwards had come off as a bit more grounded in reality. "I don't care what happens to me," she told him seriously. "But I need to see that kid that just came in."

Edwards frowned at her again, shaking his head in confusion. "What kid?"

"Don't do this to me," she pleaded. She didn't have the stomach for mind games in that moment. "Just tell me why he's here. What happened to him."

"Are you sure you're all right, Grimes?"

She wasn't all right at all. She was nearly hysterical with worry about Carl. "I need to know!"

"I promise you," he said calmly, "no one's come in all day. We've been waiting on Andrews to get back, but Dawn hasn't let anyone else go out, thanks to you."

She wasn't sure what to believe. She knew she didn't imagine seeing Carl there. That was the last thing in the world she wanted to see. But Edwards seemed genuinely baffled as to what she was referring to. The staff seemed to always communicate when a new ward was coming in, so he would have certainly been aware of such a thing. Was he lying?

"Okay," she conceded, not wanting to push the issue and arouse any further suspicions. Instead, she wondered if Andrews' disappearance and Carl's appearance were at all connected. She put her hand over her forehead, pretending to be bothered by the pain. "Could I have been imagining things?"

Dr. Edwards didn't know what to make of her display, but he held her face for a moment, examining her swollen eye and the other bruises the officers had inflicted on her after the Gorman incident. "It's certainly possible," he agreed. "You've got a concussion. And you haven't eaten, which is only worsening matters."

"I just want to get out of here," she told him honestly.

"Stop screaming and I'll try to come back for you later," he promised. "If Andrews doesn't make it back by nightfall, they'll be going out to look for her. Things will be calmer then."

Michonne nodded and watched him leave, locking her in her room once again. This time, she was fine with it. She preferred to be left alone, really. If he didn't know Carl was there, that meant Dawn probably didn't either. And she would have a much better shot at getting them both out alive if the staff thought she was safely locked in her room. She quickly pulled off her belt and got to work on picking the lock.

* * *

_4 hours earlier._

Rick, Daryl, Sasha, and Carl were slowly rolling through the streets of Atlanta in their church bus, scanning every car they could find for a white cross, or any sign that one had been painted on the back. With Sasha's limited intel, they knew the kidnappers were posing as cops, so the first thing they did was check all of the police and fire stations within the downtown and midtown areas. The plan was to start with a small radius, and widen it, only after all their other options were exhausted. Police stations, fire stations, hotels. No luck.

"We're gonna have to check through every parking structure in the city at this rate," Sasha noted disappointedly.

"And there are too many of those," Rick replied calmly. A stark contrast to the way in which he'd left the church. "We don't know what these people are capable of. Time is of the essence."

"Well where else should we check?" Daryl asked, his gaze fixated on a passing walker.

"I don't know." His thoughts were battling between the notions that she was at a police station further out, and her being in the downtown area. "I don't know where the churches are in the city…"

"There's Ebenezer," Daryl suggested.

Rick was surprised Daryl would know anything about Martin Luther King Jr.'s church, but pushed it aside to consider the idea. "Yeah… Maybe."

"It's too bad it wasn't a red cross on the car," Carl piped up, trying to think of places along with everyone else. "I know where all those are in the state of Georgia."

Sasha looked across the aisle, over to him, confused. "Why would you know where every Red Cross is in Georgia?"

"School," he shrugged.

She chuckled at the uselessness of such a thing, but it triggered a thought in her mind. What if the white cross was supposed to be some medical symbol? Those officers did insist that they could help. "Hospitals," she blurted out, already thinking of two off the top of her head.

Rick looked at her in the rearview mirror, thankful for her quick thinking. They'd have generators, space for plenty of people, and maybe even food. That made as much sense as anything. "Piedmont, Grady, and Emory are the closest," he nodded, making a sudden turn back towards the highway. "We'll check Emory first, and then go from there."

* * *

Emory Hospital had been a bust, so they continued to the next closest hospital, hoping it would be the one. It was getting close to sunset, and it would be much harder to see once darkness fell over the city. Rick felt a huge wave of relief when they got close to the massive hospital and the cars with white crosses instantly became prevalent. His fingers tapped nervously on the wheel as he tried to concoct a plan.

"Looks like this is it," he announced to his small army. He always knew Grady was the largest hospital in the city, but he didn't really understand the enormity of it until he realized he would have to find Michonne there. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

"This place is huge," Carl commented with wide eyes. "How are we supposed to find her in there?"

"We're gonna have to stake it out," Daryl knew, looking up front to Rick to make sure he agreed. That he understood they couldn't just run in there blind.

"Yeah," Rick affirmed. He stopped their vehicle when he realized there was a spotter on the roof of the building. They were still far enough to go undetected, but they wouldn't get much further in a big white bus without being seen. They might even have to amble towards the hospital as walkers, if push came to shove. "We're gonna have to leave the bus here," he told the other three.

Sasha didn't like the idea of having to park so far away. If anything went down, they would have a long run ahead of them. "Just give me a minute," she said, standing from her seat.

"Where are you goin'?" Rick frowned, also standing to meet her at the exit.

"I got this," she assured him, looking him in the eye. "Let me help." She'd made sure to bring along her M30 for the mission, and this was exactly why. With her sniper rifle in hand, she hopped off the bus and set up shop on the hood of their vehicle.

Daryl could tell Rick wanted to stop her. He was fidgety, walking around in small circles as she got prepared. But Rick didn't know what she could do with that weapon. He did. "She got this," he told his friend confidently.

"That's almost a mile away," Rick turned to protest. "How can you possibly know…"

"She can do it, man. Trust her the way you trust me."

"I do," he answered nervously. He was scared to let her try, but even more scared not to. He needed to get to Michonne. "It's just… if she misses…"

"We're fucked," Daryl understood. "But she ain't gon' miss." He caught her eye through the front window and gave her a slight nod of encouragement. Then stood with Rick as they watched her take her shot.

Rick could feel his palms sweating as looked on anxiously. Sasha appeared completely calm and composed as she took aim and got off her shot. It was so quick, they weren't sure anything happened. But when they looked to the roof, the spotter had, indeed, fallen to the ground.

Rick let out a giant sigh of relief as he signaled for Carl and grabbed Michonne's sword and his gun from the bus seat. "All right, let's move. Let's go."

Together, the four of them quickly scurried closer to the hospital entrance, where they would be able to scope out the goings on for a bit before going in. In two hours, not much had happened. Nothing, in fact. No one had gone out or in. No further movement on the parts of the roof they could see. They would have to get closer.

Rick whistled for Sasha and Daryl to join him and Carl, and within seconds, they were huddled together again. Carl kept his back to the group, his eyes scanning the streets for anything suspicious.

"It's too quiet," Rick said, squinting up at the giant building before him. "If they're taking people at the rate they have been, there should be more movement."

"Maybe they only go out at night," Sasha offered. "It was late as hell when they took the three of us."

He nodded. "Still doesn't feel right, but that is a possibility."

"We still need to get closer though," Daryl inserted, having read Rick's mind. "If they're only in one section of the building, we ain't gonna see shit from out here."

"It's been two hours and nobody's even come for their man on the roof," Sasha had noticed.

"Maybe they don't know yet."

"Or maybe they do and that's why no one's come out," Rick considered. "There's no way to know."

Carl caught wind of someone or something coming around the corner and got his people's attention. "Psst."

The other three instantly had their guns up before they could even place the figure. It was a young black kid in scrubs, limping towards the hospital, oblivious to the fact that he'd been spotted. "You should stop," Rick called out to the young man.

Startled, he looked back at the grimy foursome and held his hands up in surrender. "I don't have anything," he promised nervously. "Just a gun and a knife and the clothes on my back."

As Daryl went over to frisk the stranger, Rick stared at him inquisitively. "You work here?" He watched the kid shake his head. "You live here?" Same response. Rick stepped in close to the young man as Daryl moved away with his weapons. "Why are you in scrubs?"

"I just escaped," he answered, swallowing hard. "I got out. But... I left a friend in there, and... I don't know."

He glanced back at his group, wondering if they believed him. He hadn't missed the kid's choice of words. "Escaped?" he asked.

"A lady in there helped me get out," he nodded. "She knew it would cause chaos, but I don't know if she knows what they're capable of. I didn't wanna leave her there."

Rick knew instantly who this lady was. Michonne had a soft spot for kids, and a penchant for mayhem. "This lady," he started pointedly. "Is her name Michonne?"

Noah's eyes widened in shock at the fact that these strangers knew his new guardian angel. But then he remembered what she said – that her friends were coming. He had to laugh at how spot on she was. "Are you Rick?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes." Rick felt another surge of relief as another piece of the puzzle fell into place. She was alive. Or at least, she had been. He moved in closer to the teenager, almost afraid to ask his next question. "What did she do?"

"What?"

"You said she got you out. What did she do?"

"She... " He had to shake away the image of Officer Gorman with his throat bitten out before answering. "She killed one of the officers. Then distracted everyone long enough for me to run out."

_Goddamn it_ , _Dillard_ , Rick thought. She never stopped doing shit that would get herself killed. He nodded again, trying not to lose hope. "And how long ago was this?"

"About two hours ago."

"You know your way around this place?"

"I was here for a year," he confirmed. "So yeah."

Rick wasn't sure whether this was real, or just some elaborate trap, but he wasn't going to let that deter him. If Michonne was in there, he was going in, no matter what. He turned to the rest of his group to introduce them to their new ally.

Over the next several minutes, Noah explained the scope of the place to Rick and the others. He told them of Dawn and the mission of the officers; where they were located in the hospital; where Michonne's room had been. He knew there were guards on every floor from top to bottom, but none of them seemed to be at their posts once Michonne had gone postal. This was the best time to strike.

Rick looked at Daryl, then Sasha, trying to figure out the best way to put them to good use. "You and me will each take a floor," he started, talking to Daryl. "Take out everyone we see. Quick slice to the throat, but have your gun ready." Daryl nodded, and was already checking his bullet stash. "Sasha, you go to the women's floor. Find Michonne."

"And if she's not in her room?"

"That's why we're taking out everyone we can."

"So… we're assuming the other two floors will be unguarded?"

Rick sighed. He didn't want to have to include Carl in such a dangerous plan. He really didn't. "We'll be fine," he decided.

"Dad," Carl piped up predictably. "I can help."

"Carl…"

"You let me come. Let me help."

"We don't know what's going on in there," he declined diplomatically. "I can't let you."

"Rick," Daryl called out to him. "He can go get Michonne while the three of us take out the staff."

"He's not ready," Rick shook his head. The fact was, Carl was probably more ready than he was himself. But if anything happened to his kid, he would never forgive himself. "I can't…"

"I can do this, Dad." He grabbed his father's arm, forcing him to pay attention to him. "Michonne saved Judith. She saved me. Let me help."

Michonne had saved Rick, too, and he knew that. "I just-." His words were cut off by a car driving into the parking lot. It was another one with a cross, so he knew it was likely another officer. He raised his hand, signaling for the rest of them to get out of sight. They stayed flush against the building, while Rick peeked around the corner, taking watch.

It was, indeed, an officer, likely returning from one of her kidnapping trips. Rick watched her pulling an empty stretcher out of her vehicle and set it up to roll inside. "Who is that?" he asked Noah with a frown. "Is that Dawn?"

"No, Dawn never leaves," Noah said, moving up the line to take a glance around the corner. "That's Officer Andrews. She usually comes in with kids."

Before anyone else had even processed what he'd said, Sasha was running towards the woman. Rick almost called after her, but knew doing so would likely ruin whatever she had planned. Instead, he just followed after her, the other three of them taking off after him. Sasha paid them no mind as she pulled her knife from her belt and slid it across the woman's throat in one swift motion. The remaining four of them stopped in their tracks as they watched Andrews fall to the ground.

Sasha began to pull the officer's uniform from her body, leaving everyone to wonder what she was doing. "We have our way in," she told them, as if they were supposed to have picked up on her plan.

Rick dropped the ground with her, stabbing the woman in the head so that she wouldn't come back to life. He then gazed at Sasha as she frantically undressed the corpse, wondering if she was okay. She was acting like he had been all morning. "Everything all right?"

"Yes," she retorted instantly. She pulled off Andrews' bulletproof vest and handed it to Carl. "This could've been me," she told Rick, beginning to change into the uniform. "And if it had been, I wouldn't want you guys out here arguing about who's going in and how."

"I just don't want anything to happen-."

"It's already happened," she cut Rick off, not angrily, but passionately. "Whatever happened with you and Michonne. You pulling the gun on Abe… whatever. It's happened. Carl is here. He's strong. And he came to help, so let him help," she demanded. "I'll go in with him on the stretcher." She looked back to Noah, "That's how it works, right?"

"Yeah," he nodded, somewhat stunned by everything that was happening. "If you move fast, you can probably get him to her floor without anyone noticing you're not one of their people."

She nodded back as she continued to change into the police uniform. "Carl and I go in. I take care of everyone on that floor and the kitchen, while he looks for Michonne. You two come in, take care of the other three floors. Sound good?"

Rick didn't know what else to say. He hated the idea of Carl being involved, but he did let him come, against his better judgment. And the kid deserved the opportunity to save someone that meant a lot to him. He turned to his son, all strapped up in his vest, and affectionately rested his hand on his shoulder. "Be careful," he said seriously. "Remember, people are the real threat here."

"I know, Dad."

"You get into trouble, you shoot or you run," he reminded him, handing over his .357, just in case. "You hear me?"

Carl nodded, thankful that he was finally being trusted with something substantial. He was helping save Michonne. That meant a lot. "You be careful, too."

"I love you, Carl."

"I love you, too," he replied, hopping onto the gurney.

Sasha covered the teenager with a blanket and handed his hat over to Rick. "I'll keep an eye out for him," she promised. "We'll be fine."

Rick nodded himself. "I know."

She gave his arm a squeeze and then looked back to Daryl one more time before heading in. With a sigh and a heavy heart, Rick watched his son head off into no man's land to save the woman they both loved.

"You ready?" Daryl asked, seeing his friend lost in worry, once again.

"Yep." He handed Carl's hat to Noah, along with the knife they'd collected from him earlier. "You go sit on our bus until we get back."

"Yes, sir," he accepted gratefully.

Rick said a quick prayer that things would go smoothly in this place, then looked to Daryl. "Let's go." With his AK strapped to his front, Michonne's katana on his back, and his knife in hand, the two of them followed Sasha and Carl inside.

_Feel it coming in the air_  
_Hear the screams from everywhere_  
_I'm addicted to the thrill_  
_It's a dangerous love affair_  
_Can't be scared when it goes down_  
_Got a problem tell me now_  
_Only thing that's on my mind_  
_Is who's gon' run this town tonight_  
_Who's gon' run this town tonight?  
_ _We gon' run this town_

* * *

Lyrics: "Run This Town" – Jay Z (Blueprint 3)

 


	15. I'm The Hero Of This Story, Don't Need To Be Saved

**15 - I'm The Hero Of This Story, Don't Need To Be Saved**

Rick was running as quickly and as quietly as his beloved boots would allow. Across the main entrance to Grady, towards the center section of this unknown land, where his love was being held hostage. He tried to keep his focus, keep his mind off of what he might find when he got there, and concentrated on his footsteps instead. One after the other, steady, like a drum, as he made his way to the stairwell he'd assigned to himself.

A few stray walkers from the foyer had followed him, but when he reached the main wing, he realized why only four floors were in use. There were tons of them roaming the first floor. He could hear them groaning and clawing at the door on the other side of the staircase. But all he was worried about was the guard standing between them.

He had to hurry, so he tightened his grip on his knife and stealthily approached the unwitting subject, watching the wrong side of the hall. He pulled the door open, swiftly and silently slit the stranger's throat, and then caught him before his body could make a thud. He gently brought him to the ground, trying not to be rattled by the man desperately clinging to his shirt for dear life. Instead, Rick stabbed him in the head, and kept it moving. Up to the next floor. Same exact deed. Lather, rinse, repeat.

His hands were covered in other men's blood by the time he made it to the eighth floor, gazing down at the massacre. Red pools slowly seeping into view. Eight men dead, in a matter of minutes. Sixteen when he figured in Daryl on the other side of the building. And that didn't include the havoc they were about to wreak in the halls of that place. But then, these officers had fucked with the wrong people. Rick and his people had taken on Woodbury, brought down Terminus, and they would annihilate Grady, too.

* * *

"Listen to me," Sasha was whispering to Carl as she pulled him into a supply closet. Officers were still running all over the place, and they needed to give Rick and Daryl enough time to handle their part of the plan. "Noah said her room was somewhere on this floor. So when we go out there, as soon as you find her, you get the hell out of here."

"I got it," he nodded, keeping his ear near the door.

From her pocket, she pulled a shoelace she'd taken from a slain officer's shoe and handed it over to him. "Before you leave, you tie this around the doorknob to the room, so I know you're gone."

"What if I don't have time?" he asked quietly, folding the string into his pocket.

"Drop it on the floor then. Something so I know you found her room and you're together."

"Okay."

She gazed down at the teenager, realizing only then exactly how young he looked. How young he actually was. She was much more afraid than she let on, but she knew there was no time for doubts now, so she had to put on her game face. "How do you feel?"

"I'm fine," Carl nodded confidently. "We'll be fine."

"All right." She cracked the door just slightly, to get a view of what she'd be dealing with. Everything seemed quiet, thanks to Noah and Andrews' disappearances. "I'm gonna head down to the kitchen. You stay here a couple minutes, just in case someone's lagging behind. And you yell if you get into trouble."

"I'm not gonna do that," he chuckled, pulling his dad's gun from his back. "Not until I find Michonne."

"You're so damn hardheaded," she smirked back at him. "Just… hurry."

He didn't like the idea of any of them going at this alone, but he knew this was what it meant to be grown up in this world. He could do this, the same way he left the prison by himself. One step at a time. "Be careful," he told Sasha.

"You too," she returned, making her sly exit down the stairs, to kill a bunch of people she'd never met.

Meanwhile, Carl moved down the corridor, sneaking a peek into every window for any sign of Michonne. He mostly came across women sitting by themselves, either reading or sleeping; some were crying. He didn't know what to make of it. It was all so quiet. So quiet, he could hear the sound of Sasha's gun going off, even with the silencer. She must have found someone in the stairway, he figured. Another person dead.

He came across just one empty room by the time he finished one side of the hall. He almost sidestepped it to start searching the other side, but he caught sight of a studded belt on the floor and instantly knew that it was Michonne's. He cautiously tried the door and stepped inside, picking it up from the floor to inspect.

He did a quick glance into the bathroom and then searched the closet for any of her other belongings. Nothing. He couldn't tell whether she'd left on her own, or if they had taken her somewhere else.

"Now what do I do?" he asked himself.

* * *

There was definitely something odd going on at the hospital, Dawn knew, but she had yet to figure out just what. She rarely went outside anymore, but decided to head up to the roof to see if she could get a read on the situation at hand. Michonne had obviously lost her mind, and on top of that, she had no Andrews, no Noah, and her spotter, Torres, hadn't been heard from in hours. The damages were piling up so quickly, she couldn't even be surprised when she found him roaming the roof as a rotter.

With a frustrated sigh, she called on her two most reliable officers to get an update on where they were and what they were doing. "Lamson. Licari. What do you have for me?" She waited an entire minute for a response from either of them, receiving nothing. "Lamson, are you there?"

Silence.

"Licari!"

Silence.

She immediately began her sprint back downstairs, but she needed someone to answer her. "Is anyone there?" she shouted into her radio.

After a long few seconds of static, an unfamiliar voice came through on the other end. A man's voice with a slow and almost calming cadence. " _Your people are dead_."

"What?" she frowned, stopping to both unlock the door and speak to the stranger. "Who is this!"

Silence.

She quickly wiped at the tears that had escaped to her face and frantically headed inside. Her hospital was under attack, and she knew that it had everything to do with one Michonne Grimes.

* * *

Michonne left Joan's room to find the entire floor completely silent. After the frenzy that had occurred just a few minutes before, it seemed that the hospital had suddenly gone on lockdown. It was dark and still – two things that didn't bode well for her search for Carl. She had stolen another scalpel from Joan's room and had it concealed in her cast as she moved down the hallway. She didn't know how much it would help her in a life or death situation, but it and her wits would have to do.

She had decided she would check the teenagers' floor for Carl, and if she didn't find him there, she would keep looking. But she didn't even need to make it that far. Just as soon as she'd taken a few steps out of Joan's room, she heard him call for her.

"Michonne!" he hissed down the hallway.

She turned back to the sound, so relieved to see him standing in the doorway of her room. He was wearing a bulletproof vest and a smile on his face. He was fine. "Thank you, God," she whispered, running down the hall to meet him. She gave him a quick but tight embrace as she asked, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"We came to save you," he answered as if it should have been obvious. His eyes widened and narrowed as he examined the bruises on her face and her broken hand. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she waved it off as if her injuries were insignificant. More than anything, she was weak.

"My dad and Sasha and Daryl are taking out everyone on the other floors."

She watched as he began to tie a navy blue shoelace around the knob of her door. She knew then that they obviously had very specific plans, and she needed to follow his lead here. "Okay, then what are we supposed to do?"

He took her hand, leading her back towards the stairs as he explained, "Dad and Daryl cleared the steps. We should be able to run straight out and to the bus."

_No wonder it's so quiet_ , she thought. As much as she expected Rick to find her, she wasn't sure they would be able to do it so quickly. "It's just the four of you?" she decided to ask.

"Yep. Dad said the smaller the group, the easier it would be to go unnoticed."

It was no surprise that he was right. She stopped Carl before he could open the stair door, having him stand back while she checked to make sure the coast was clear. She had to smirk at the fact that Rick always did exactly what he said he was going to do. "All right," she began to allow him ahead of her.

Just then, Dawn stepped out from the supply closet – the same one Sasha and Carl had been in just minutes before – with her gun aimed at Michonne. "Don't fucking move," she told her ward.

Michonne immediately held her hands up in surrender, but she did not want Carl to get caught in whatever crossfire might occur. "Carl, run."

"But-."

"Go!" she yelled. "I got this." Her heart was racing, and she knew she didn't have it, but she needed to concentrate on herself. She couldn't do that with him standing there. Her body relaxed considerably when he followed her orders.

"Who was that," Dawn asked anxiously as she pulled Michonne in the opposite direction of her friend. She kept her gun barrel on Michonne's temple as they slowly made their way down the hallway.

"He's mine," she answered simply and honestly. "You fuck with him in any way, you die."

"You're not in the best position to be making threats right now."

She smiled maliciously in response. "That's a promise."

Dawn knew as much, but she couldn't let herself be distracted. She still didn't know what was happening or where the rest of her people were. "What is this, Michonne?"

"What is what?"

"Why are my people dropping like flies!" she shouted. "We did you a favor. We saved you."

Michonne's eyes nearly rolled out of her head. She couldn't fathom that Dawn really still believed that, so she didn't respond to it. "I don't know what's going on."

"Don't lie to me!"

"Dawn..." She began to speak more calmly. The last thing she needed to do was agitate a crazy woman with a gun to her head. She didn't think Dawn had the balls to shoot her on purpose, but she was certainly unstable enough to do so by accident. "I've been here with you," she rationalized. "I was taken against my will and brought here. Whatever's happening, I have no control over."

"Then why does my hospital start crumbling to pieces the minute you arrive?"

She wanted to tell her that it was because they took the wrong damn person, but she decided against it. "I don't know."

"This is you. I know it is."

Michonne could hear footsteps, the closer they got to the other end of the hallway. If it was Carl again, she was going to absolutely lose it. Instead, Rick came into view, his rifle already drawn. Her breath automatically quickened at the sight of him.

Rick almost stumbled when he saw Michonne. It had only been two days, but she looked like she'd been through hell. Her face was battered, her regal posture wilted. Whatever they'd done to her, whatever he'd allowed to happen to her, was devastating. But he had to ignore all of that and get her out of there first.

"Let her go," he commanded Dawn, his voice low and menacing. "Now."

She recognized the voice as the one she'd heard on the radio when she'd been on the roof. "Who are you," she demanded from behind her hostage.

"Does it matter?"

"I'm not letting her go unless you tell me," she shot back. "Unless you get me back my officers."

"Don't trust her," Michonne told Rick, looking him in the eye. Relieved to be able to look him in the eye again. "Whatever she says, don't do it."

"Shut the fuck up," Dawn inserted angrily.

"You, trust me," he told Michonne, ignoring the officer's request. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

Michonne's eyes closed, letting his words sink in. They were such a comfort, as much as she didn't want them to be. "I do," she promised. "I knew you would come."

Dawn observed the bond between the two people in front of her and it began to agitate her. Not only because she didn't have that connection with her people, but it made her change her mind about the woman she had deemed so fearsome all this time. "I thought you were strong, Grimes," she declared, frowning at the man ahead of her. "Turns out you need some man to save you? You proved me wrong."

Rick stared at the stranger, wondering how she knew his name and what the hell she was talking about; but he quickly realized she was talking to Michonne. "Don't listen to her, Michonne. That's not what this is."

"That's always what this is," she shot back. She was getting tired of her own damsel in distress routine.

He shook his head, wishing he had time to tell her all the ways that that wasn't true. That they were a team, and that was all that mattered. " _We_  save  _each other_ ," he said. "That's what we do."

Dawn could feel them trying to distract her, and she wasn't going to let them. She began to pull Michonne backwards, away from the man with the beard and the gun. "You two need to shut up."

"You need to stop moving," Rick replied.

Blood was dripping from Michonne's hand, where she had been trying so hard to conceal her scalpel, she was squeezing the thing. She looked down at her hand and back up at Rick.

He saw the blood and the look in her eyes, and knew she wasn't her usual cool, calm, collected self. So it meant that he had to be. "Don't do anything stupid," he begged, inching towards her as they continued backward. "We got this."

Michonne's eyes stayed locked on him. She understood what he was doing, and she was glad he was there, but she also needed him to know how much she hated it. She had dueling emotions, and the ones telling her to take care of Dawn herself were winning. "I told you, you can't save me anymore, Rick."

"I should've told you I love you." His eyebrows knitted over his eyes, begging her not to do anything that would get her killed. She was so stubborn sometimes, he wasn't sure he was getting through. "I love you, Michonne."

She smiled back at him sadly. "I wish you'd figured that out two days ago."

Rick noticed Carl and Daryl come into view behind the two women, and he needed them to not make any sudden movements. He held up his hand, warning them to stay back. "I wish I had too," he went on.

Dawn watched Rick's hand go up and instinctively turned to see what he was gesturing toward. With her focus shattered, Rick knew that this was the time to strike. He gave Michonne a quick nod and she sprung into action, knocking the gun from Dawn's clutches. She then plunged the scalpel into her knee, sending her to the floor with a loud smack. Rick walked up on the struggling officer while Michonne retrieved her gun.

"I told you to let her go," he proclaimed coolly, watching her pull the blade from her leg.

"You're all crazy," Dawn said, falling back on the floor. There was no point in fighting it. She had no backup, and literally no leg to stand on. It was over.

"It didn't have to be like this," Michonne said, approaching the officer with her own firearm. "I told you to let me go."

"I didn't know…" She shook her head as her sentence trailed off into the air. None of it mattered anymore. "I get it now."

Michonne stood there, with the gun aimed, staring at the woman that had tortured her. That allowed so many heinous things to happen to so many innocent people. That was willing to stand by idly while that disgusting officer raped her. And still, she felt sympathy for Dawn. She had believed so much in the purpose of the hospital that it was going to get her killed. Some greater good.

"You told me no one was coming, Grimes. Remember that," Dawn asked. "All the while, you knew your… knight in shining armor was on his way. Well played."

Rick watched Michonne, unsure of why she hadn't made a move yet. She was just standing there. "Why are you listening to her?" he asked.

Michonne took the shot, straight to Dawn's forehead, and watched the life fade from her eyes just as quickly as the bullet hit. She let out a loud sigh of relief as she turned back to look at Rick. With a small scowl on her face, she handed him Dawn's gun. "Just shut up," she told him.

Sasha made her way back up to the rest of the group as Michonne went to greet them. She offered smiles to her friends, thankful for them and their willingness to come for her when she needed them. And her smile got brighter as Carl came running down the hall, knowing his friend was finally safe. He gave her the biggest hug he could muster, and didn't let go.

"I love you, Michonne," he announced, his face buried in her shoulder.

"Oh god, I love you too, Carl." Tears ran down her face as she reveled in the quiet moment, and how good it felt to be hugged like that. To be loved like that. It meant so much more coming from him than it did his dad, for some reason. "I love you, too," she repeated in a whisper, stroking his hair.

Rick waited for the two of them to separate before he approached Michonne once more. He removed her sword from his back and handed it over to her, but not before catching her eye. "I can still save you," he said seriously and sincerely. "And given the opportunity, I will, every single time. No matter how you feel about me."

She had nothing to say in response, so she simply watched him walk away.


	16. Resentment

**16 – Resentment**

"Why are we staying here?" Michonne demanded, staring across the hallway at Daryl. He was leaned against the door of what used to be Dawn's office. Carl sat crosslegged on the floor, looking up at the two adults.

Daryl only shrugged. "You'd rather stay in a raggedy ass church?"

_Anywhere but here_ , she thought to herself. "I don't know what I'd rather."

"This place got walls," he reminded her. "Food. Lights. They were a buncha assholes, but it was smart to stay here. Rick's right."

She cringed at the sound of Rick's name now. She had been so glad to see his face and know that she was right – he was capable of finding her. But now that he had, she just wanted him to stay away. It was a good thing he'd gone back to the church to bring back the others. She wouldn't have to see him for another few hours, at least.

"This place…"

Carl's eyes focused in on his friend and her apparent sadness. She was so battered, it was almost hard to look at her, but the angst written all over her face made it even more difficult. "What happened to you here?" he asked cautiously.

She frowned, still feeling the pain. Not only in its physical manifestations, but the emotional bruises of having to fight off a rapist wouldn't soon fade. "It doesn't matter," she attempted to smile, not wanting to depress her buddy. "I won."

He nodded, accepting that she probably didn't want to talk about it. "As long as you're all right."

"I'm standing here, right?"

"Right."

Daryl's eyes kept searching Michonne as well. Searching for some sign that said she was really as all right as she was claiming to be. While he didn't know her as well as Rick did, he knew she was putting on a front. "Why don't you go to the kitchen and find somethin' to eat, man," he told Carl.

The kid wasn't hungry, but he was keen enough to know when someone was trying to get rid of him. He stood from the floor and declined that offer, but suggested another. "I'll look for some clean sheets for everyone. They'll need beds when they get here, right Michonne?"

She nodded in consent with a smirk on her face. She loved how perceptive he was. "Stay on this floor," she instructed. There were wards still hanging around, and she didn't want him interacting with them. They would have to fend for themselves.

"I will."

She waited for him to make it closer to the other end of the hall before looking to Daryl. She figured by the way he looked at her that he was onto her, but she wasn't going to address it if he wasn't. Instead, she took note of the messy halls, filled with other men's blood, and nodded towards the supply closet. "We should get started, I guess."

He nodded in agreement, and the two of them began to retrieve cleaning supplies. They had already sent the many dead bodies down the elevator shaft but the remnants of their deaths still remained. "Hard to believe we did all this," he commented.

"It was mostly you, Rick, and Sasha," she noted evenly. She pulled the mop bucket across the hall and began to wipe at the streaks of red marking the floors.

Daryl took his own pail and got to work on the walls. "It was mostly Rick," he eventually revealed. "He cleared two whole floors on his own." He noticed that she tensed at the mention of his name. Rick told him that before she was taken, they had broken up, whatever that meant. But he couldn't imagine that that would still be bothering her. Or was it? "He would've done anything to get to you, you know."

"I know."

"I'm just makin' sure you do…"

"I also know that's no different from what he'd do for anyone else in our group," she added, assuring him that his friend would not be getting off that easily.

He paused for a moment, staring back at Michonne, contemplating whether to tell her what Rick had done earlier, admitting he loved her to everyone. Daryl was certain that it wasn't his place, but he wondered if it would make her feel any better. She seemed to be harboring some latent anger for Rick. Or perhaps it was just a somberness over the situation. Either way, he hated watching her go through it.

"I'm not mad at him," she promised, not looking up from her task. She could feel Daryl watching her, as if she was some unstable child, and she didn't exactly like it. "I'm just mad."

"That why you told him to shut up?"

"I told him to shut up because… what is there to say? Why is he talking now?" she asked with a sigh. "When I needed him to say something, he just clammed up and left me hanging. I don't wanna hear it now."

He went back to his wall, but continued the conversation. "So you are mad at him."

She stopped short when she realized she was standing in front of Dr. Edwards' office. What used to be his office, anyway. He was dead, along with the others now. But she distinctively recalled him asking why she had been out on that road alone. She never answered him, but she knew the reason, just the same. And it hurt every time she thought about it.

"I don't know if 'betrayal' is the right word," she declared quietly. "But that's what it feels like. That's how it feels to know that I love this man; that he's the reason I let my guard down in the first place, and… just nothing in return. I don't know."

Daryl wished he knew how to make her understand. He'd seen it for himself. The man that pulled the gun on Abraham was just as angry and scared as the one that bit out Joe's throat. He would have done anything to save her. He just figured it all out too late. "He tried to make it right, Michonne."

She looked back at him with a shrug. "Then why do I feel like he let me down?"

* * *

Rick's eyes were fixated on the road as he zoomed down the highway as quickly as the church bus would take him. He was glad their mission had been successful, and in turn, they'd found a new place to hole up for a while, but his heart remained heavy. He foolishly figured that saving Michonne would be the answer to their problems. Or more accurately, he hadn't figured anything beyond saving her. But he got a rude awakening that evening when all was said and done.

Sasha sat crossways from him, watching him drive, noting that he hadn't said a word since they left the hospital. He seemed to be in some sort of trance. And she didn't want to address it with Noah sitting just a few seats away, but she didn't want to get back to the church and have to diffuse another situation. This would be tense enough on its own.

She finally just decided to ask. "Rick, are you okay?"

It took a minute, but he eventually responded hoarsely, "I'm fine."

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Isn't that what we all see? Day in, day out?"

She glanced down at her lap, understanding that he obviously wasn't going to make this easy. "Fair enough."

"I… I don't know what you want me to say," he added, clearing his throat. "What is there to say?"

She shrugged, unsure of that very thing herself. "Whatever you're feeling."

"I'm feeling fine."

"How about you do us both a favor and pretend I wasn't born yesterday."

"All right," he smirked a bit, knowing she couldn't see it in the dark. "How about… I just don't wanna talk about it."

"That would be your choice, I guess. But there's a chance I can help."

"I don't think you can, Sasha."

"You didn't think I could earlier today either," she reminded him. "Maybe stop trying to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders, Rick. We exist to support you; the same way you do us."

He let out a long, tense sigh, still grasping desperately at his defenses. They were just about all he had left in the world. But they were also why he was in this predicament in the first place. "I fucked up," he finally admitted quietly.

She replied with a small scoff and shook her head. "I think that was clear when Michonne told you to shut up."

"Yeah, I suppose it was."

"What did you do?"

"Do I really have to rehash this? Daryl doesn't just tell you these things?"

"Rick."

"Fine," he relented, running a nervous hand over his face. "She… I don't know. She told me she loved me and I told her I was scared. She asked for a definition and I said I didn't have one. I left her alone, when the one thing I always do… the one thing I'm good at, is being there. I mean… I let all this happen."

"Oh lord," Sasha sighed dramatically. "I don't even know where to begin."

"I know."

"No wonder she was shooting daggers at your back."

"I know."

"Why would you do that to someone?" she frowned. "And you, of all people." Everything she knew about Rick said he was reliable, nearly to a fault. How did he manage to let down the one person he claimed he loved?

He finally took his eyes off the road to look at her for a moment. "Is this your version of helping?"

"I'm sorry. I just need you to explain this one. Why'd you choose now to drop the ball?"

"I don't know," he shook his head in defeat. "I got scared. She just kinda… snuck up on me. And I was in this… this vacuum of awful shit happening to us. The Governor. Losing her and the kids. Joe. Gareth. And part of me blamed myself for being distracted. I think part of me blamed her for distracting me. I don't know."

She could understand that. She was about as closed off as they came, and found it hard to let people in herself. But once she'd done it, she couldn't fathom living any other way. "Can I tell you something?" When he nodded for her to go on, she did. "Daryl and I did this same dance you and Michonne are doing now. 'Do I like him?' 'Do I love him?' 'Can I trust him?' 'Can he trust me?' And the truth is, if you care enough to ask, the answer is probably yes. And you can't dwell on it, you can't hem and haw and wait for the signs or the moment when you're not scared out of your mind. It never happens the way you want it to. But you don't get to give up just because the world makes it a little harder than you want. It hurts because it matters to her. And you're scared because it matters to you. So fix it."

That was all he wanted. He just didn't know how. He digested her words with a long sigh as they turned onto the road for the church. "What do you think it means that she gave them my name?" he asked.

"What?"

"She told those officers her last name was Grimes. Does that mean anything?"

"Maybe she was being pragmatic." She shook her head and offered a small shrug. "Or maybe she wanted to feel like you were there with her."

"Maybe…" He hoped it was the latter. "When they took you," he began cautiously as he glanced over at her, "were you mad at Daryl?

"I was," she admitted, sitting back in her seat. "When Beth and I went back to the funeral home to find him and he wasn't there? I was livid."

He nodded. "Why?"

"Because he wasn't there," she answered simply. "The man I loved wasn't there for me. And it sucked."

"So did he fix it? Or did you just forgive him?"

"A little of both maybe." She vividly remembered that feeling of pure joy when Daryl rescued them at Terminus. Nothing else mattered to her. "But I'm not Michonne," she reminded him. "You did just fine saving her physically, but it sounds like she needed you emotionally. Her heart is what you failed to protect."

She was right. "You're right."

"So… now you know where to start."


	17. Isolation

**17 – Isolation**

It was nearing noon when Rick walked into the hospital cafeteria with Judith in his arms. He found Carl, Daryl, and Sasha sitting together at a table, sharing fruit and a few laughs, which he was glad to see. Maggie, Glenn, and Beth were at the other end, pouring water from jugs into bottles, which he found odd, but not enough to mention. And in the kitchen, Carol, Tyreese, and Bob were filling their plates with food. It seemed that everyone from his core prison group was in attendance. Everyone but Michonne.

"Good morning," he greeted the trio that included Carl. "Surprised to see you up before noon," he glanced down at his son. The day before had been insane, but he was handling it so much better than expected.

"I couldn't really sleep," Carl admitted. "I was pretty much just staring out my window all night."

"I was the same," Sasha added tiredly. "I don't know if I'm just not used to having so much space or what, but it feels weird here."

"It is weird here," Rick confirmed with raised eyebrows. "Whatever went on here, it wasn't good. It almost feels like spirits are roaming the halls."

Daryl stared up at Rick, wondering what had him feeling so macabre all of a sudden. Death was everywhere now. Life was what mattered, and he knew that Rick needed to be worried about his with Michonne. She was not a happy camper when they spoke the night before. "You seen Michonne yet?" he asked him nonchalantly.

"I was hoping she was in here," he answered, gazing at his daughter. He knew she didn't want to see him, but thought he may be able to see her if she was up and roaming around.

"She was here earlier," Sasha informed him with a bit of an apology in her eyes. "She decided to leave once people started filing in."

Rick nodded. He hoped she wasn't doing that antisocial thing she did when she first joined the prison. It took a lot for her to pull herself out of that. "I… guess I'll go check her room then."

"Dad," Carl called after him, worried. "Remember what I said, okay?"

He frowned at his son, unsure of what he was referring to. They often said a lot to one another. "Said when?" he thought it best to ask.

"Back at the church…"

Again, they'd said a lot of things back at the church, but he could guess that Carl was referring to when they spoke of whether he loved Michonne. Carl said not to respond the wrong way, but they were past the point of no return by then. He just smiled and nodded. "I'll keep that in mind, son."

He headed out of the cafeteria and down the rather quiet corridor towards Michonne's room. Through the window, he could see her talking to Noah, sharing what he assumed was a much-needed laugh with the teenager. It made him smile to see. He also didn't want to interrupt another moment where she actually seemed to be enjoying herself, but it was Judith who decided to start softly banging on the door upon seeing Michonne.

"Well that's a dirty trick," he grinned down at the infant, as he stepped away from the window. He could see Michonne coming towards them, causing him to look down nervously. He still had no idea how he was going to fix things, but perhaps, standing awkwardly at her door was the only way to start.

She pulled open her door, somewhat surprised to see Rick staring back at her. She thought he understood that she didn't want to be bothered with him for the time being. "Yes?"

"Hey," he greeted her apprehensively as he repositioned Judith in his arms. "I umm… was hoping we could talk."

She glanced back at Noah, who was already shuffling towards them to give them their moment alone. "You don't have to leave," she told him. "We were in the middle of a conversation."

"No, I said all the important stuff," he smiled back at his friend. He gave Rick an oddly encouraging nod and patted him on the shoulder as he made his way between them. "Besides, you said I should go mingle. I think I will."

She nodded as she watched him head down the halls, leaving her in uncomfortable silence with the man she so desperately wanted to not be angry at. But the fact remained, she was, and whatever he had to say likely wouldn't change that. But she would let him try. "Come in," she offered quietly, pinching at Judith's fat little thighs as they passed by.

"I thought you would be at breakfast with everyone," Rick commented, taking a seat in the chair Noah had previously occupied. "Like back at the prison."

"This isn't the prison," Michonne deadpanned, slowly climbing onto her bed. Her body still hurt as much as her soul. "And I know you didn't come in here to make small talk about breakfast, so just spit it out."

"Michonne, I'm sorry," he announced confidently. His eyes scanned hers for any sign of a willingness to forgive him, but he knew he needed to say it whether she did or not. "I reacted badly to a lot of things, and I know that's why you ended up here. I know I didn't do right by you. By us. And I'm sorry," he nodded. "I will never fail to be there for you again."

She scoffed at the idea that he could make such a promise. "Rick, I don't fault you for not being there when I was taken. That could happen to anybody. It happened to Sasha and Beth," she knew. "But it was those moments that came before. When I needed…" Her words trailed off into silence as she truly processed the sequence of events that led them to this place.

"I know," he said softly. "It's all of it."

"It is," she agreed. "And it's just too much." She covered her face with her hands and sighed through her fingers in exasperation. She was so tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of feeling. Just tired. "It's just so much," she said from behind her hands.

_When you try your best, but you don't succeed_  
_When you get what you want, but not what you need_  
_When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep  
_ _Stuck in reverse_

Rick looked down at Judith, and then back at Michonne. He hated knowing that she had been through this, and that he was in part to blame. He still didn't know what they did to her, but whatever it was, nearly broke her.  _He_  nearly broke her. And for someone as strong as Michonne, that was a giant and cruel feat. He was so scared to ask, but he needed to know. "What… happened?" he inquired as cautiously as he could.

With another exhale, she removed her hands from her face to look back at Rick. Her head tilted slightly as her mind decided how she wanted to answer that question. "What happened." She shook her head, not wanting to relive the insanity that was the hospital. Being kidnapped was one thing, but fighting a whole army of deranged people on her own… "What happened," she decided to say instead, "is that I was taken because I let my guard down. I was too busy thinking about you to be concerned about myself. That's what happened."

He rubbed his own face now, becoming frustrated. "So you do blame me."

"I blame myself," she made sure to clarify. "I made my own mistakes, and I'm paying for them."

"Michonne…"

"What, Rick? What do you think you can fix with your words?"

"I don't know," he admitted with a sigh. "I… I mean, nothing, really. But I hoped we could talk through it."

"What you hoped is that you could come in here with a well-worded apology, and your cute little baby to make me smile, and all would be forgiven. That's not how this works."

"Then tell me how it works," he retorted, his voice suddenly full of fire. "What do I do to make you understand that I love you and I am sorry?"

"Show me!" she shouted, startling both Rick and his cute little baby. "Where is this love? I can't see it, I can't touch it. I can't feel it," she spouted passionately. "I can hear it. I can hear some words, but I can't do anything with your words. Not when you've shown me that you're too scared to actually do it."

He hopped up from his chair, more upset than ever. "I came when you needed me!"

"You come when everyone needs you! That's you, Rick. And that's why I love you," she admitted with a sniffle. "But when I  _really_  needed you, you sat there and told me that you couldn't. You broke my heart, Rick."

_And the tears come streaming down your face_  
_When you lose something you can't replace_  
_When you love someone, but it goes to waste  
_ _Could it be worse?_

A stray tear ran down his eye before he knew it, and Judith had begun to whimper herself. The tension in the room was uncomfortable for everyone, and manifesting through her. "I don't know how to show you how sorry I am."

"I don't either," she shook her head sadly. Her eyes studied his feet as he paced around the large, bright room. "Noah told me… that you and Sasha spoke on the bus," she revealed to him.

His eyes narrowed at the information, unsure of where she was headed with it. "Yeah…"

"He said you called me 'a distraction.'"

"That's not exactly what I said…"

"I'm not saying you said it cynically," she submitted, "but I know that's what you feel. Because I feel it, too. Maybe we are a distraction to one another. Maybe everything is working out the way it had to. The way it was always going to."

"Michonne, no," he contested, moving closer to her. "I said a lot of other things too. Did he tell you any of that?"

"He told me everything he heard," she assured him. "Some things that made me think…"

"Think what," he pressed.

"That maybe… I don't know."

He watched the tears stream down her face and wished so badly that he knew how to fix this. "Tell me. Please."

She shook her head and laid back in her bed. She was done with the conversation. "There's nothing else to say," she answered softly.

He nodded in understanding, not wanting to push her any further than he already had. He couldn't force her to talk. And what would be the good in that? It would only make her dig in. He headed for the door, but not before turning back to watch her for a moment. She didn't hide her tears. She was sad. Or more accurately, she was hurt. And it wasn't by what the people at the hospital had done to her. This was on him.

_And high up above or down below_  
_When you're too in love to let it go_  
_But if you never try, you'll never know  
_ _Just what you're worth_

"Can I ask you something?" he requested hopefully. He swallowed hard as he waited for her answer.

"What?"

"When we lost each other after the prison… Did you have any doubts that I would be able to find you?"

She looked back at him with a frown, confused as to what that had to do with anything. "I don't know. A few doubts, but..."

"But you went to that house, knowing that was where I'd look."

"Yeah…"

"And when you ended up here, you knew I would find you, right?"

She wiped at her face as she nodded begrudgingly. "Yes." She heard his footsteps begin to move across the tile floor until he was standing over her. "Get away from me, Rick."

"I just wanted to give you this," he said softly, pulling her gold chain from his pocket. It was one of few clues he had as to the fact that she was taken. It was the thing that made him truly understand how badly he'd fucked up. "I failed you," he declared sadly. "I did. But even then, I didn't give up. I don't give up." He placed the necklace in her open hand and squeezed it shut. "Just remember that."

_Tears stream down your face_  
_When you lose something you cannot replace_  
_Tears stream down your face  
_ _I promise you I will learn from my mistakes_

Her instinct was to snatch her hand away, but his touch brought her a comfort that she hadn't felt since that night. The comfort she'd been longing for when he walked away. And that was when she remembered snatching the necklace off of her neck as she fought for her life. She threw it to the ground, knowing Rick would need something to trace in order to find her. Another reminder of how connected they always were.

"Noah said you wondered why I gave them your name," she started before he could leave the room. "I told myself that it was because I didn't want them to know who I really was."

He turned back to her with that squint in his eyes, obviously wondering what she meant by that. "But you could've given them any name."

"I could have," she agreed. "I also wanted to see if they had you, or Carl. See if they recognized the name at all," she went on. "But mostly? I just wanted to feel like you were with me."

His heart smiled at the small glimmer of hope she'd just given him. He knew that that meant this was salvageable. "I won't let you down, Michonne."

With that, he headed out of the room to leave her be. He understood that he couldn't just make it right with a conversation. And maybe this was a test. Maybe she was trying to see if he would walk away or try harder. But even if it wasn't, he had no intentions of leaving. Last time he did that, he almost lost her for good.

With Judith babbling over his shoulder, he went into the adjacent room and grabbed a chair for himself. He pulled it into the hallway, and placed it right outside of Michonne's door. He took a seat with his daughter, and decided that he would wait. When she needed him, he would be there. And even when she didn't, he would be there. Waiting.

_Lights will guide you home_  
_And ignite your bones  
_ _And I will try to fix you_

* * *

Lyrics: "Fix You" – Coldplay (X&Y)


	18. Uncomfortable Silence Can Be So Loud

**18 – Uncomfortable Silence Can Be So Loud**

Night had long since fallen over the hospital when Sasha came walking down the hall, with a tray full of sliced cucumbers, finding Rick still posted up at Michonne's door. She couldn't help but shake her head, somewhat amused, somewhat relieved to see him still sitting there. It had been two days, and the only time he seemed to have gotten up was to use the bathroom. She was proud of him for his resolve.

"Can I get you anything?" she approached him smirking. "Something to eat maybe?"

Rick yawned but shook his head adamantly. "I'm all right."

"There's no point in depriving yourself just because you're sitting here. This isn't a punishment."

He quirked an eyebrow as he looked up at her. "Isn't it?"

"Oh, don't get all sarcastic on me now," she knocked his shoulder lightly. "You said you wanted to fix it."

"I do," he nodded, turning to glance back into Michonne's window. She was still lying in her bed, avoiding him. "I just wish I had an active way to do that."

"This is it, Rick. You said she wanted you to be there. Well, here you are."

With a small smile, he accepted the encouragement. If she thought he was on the right track, he wasn't going to argue. "How about you. You holdin' up all right?"

"I'm fine," she nodded, taking a couple of bites of her snack. "Still not sleeping well, but… what can you do?"

"Well, we've got nothin' to do here but rest. May as well take advantage."

"You should take advantage of the cafeteria and eat something." A door opened and they both turned down the hall to see Beth and Noah head off in the opposite direction. "Where are you two going?" she questioned them in a very motherly tone.

"Gym!" they both called back at the same time.

"They're such liars," she observed quietly with a laugh. She also noted that Rick didn't seem interested in pleasantries, so she would leave him be. "I'm headed in for the night. But you know where to find us if you need anything."

"I do," he promised, watching her walk back towards her room. Before she could disappear, he made sure to tell her, "Thank you, Sasha."

She looked back at him, confused. "I didn't do anything."

"I mean for everything," he clarified with a small nod. "Thank you for helping."

She sent back a comforting smile and headed back into her room, where she found Daryl sitting on the floor, fiddling with his crossbow. "Why are you on the floor," she wondered with a chuckle as she made her way to the bed.

"Comfortable," he shrugged, deciding to hop up from it since she asked. He grabbed a bunch of cucumbers from her tray and sat down beside her. "This all they had?"

"All I wanted." It was then that remembered finding some old packets of almond butter, and immediately began to dress up her vegetable slices.

Daryl looked on, repulsed, as she happily bit into her delicacy. "That's fuckin' disgusting," he cited seriously.

She looked back at him with a full mouth and a frown. "I've seen you eat pig nose. Squirrel. I'm pretty sure I've seen you eat dirt. But this is what disgusts you?"

"The mind's a powerful thing," he shrugged again. He laid back on the bed crossways, staring up at the ceiling as he consumed his late night snack. "Rick still out there lookin' like a lost ass dog?"

"Yep," she laughed, shaking her head. "Won't even eat anything."

Daryl scoffed at the idea of passing up food when it was usually in such short supply. "I usually get what he's goin' through, but I don't understand this one, man."

"I do."

"Bullshit."

"No, I do," she said as she softly fell back as well, resting her head on his chest. "He's doing what he should've done in the first place."

"Stalkin' her ain't gonna fix nothin'."

She had to chuckle at his choice of words, but she didn't agree. "So are you saying you know what will fix it?"

"All I'm sayin' is, if savin' her life didn't do it, then this ain't gonna do shit. When she's ready to forgive him, she will."

"Maybe it wasn't her life that needed saving," she offered, smiling to herself as his rough hands gently rested over her head. "Maybe he's realized he needs to save her soul."

"Well hell, we all need that," he retorted jokingly. "We oughta form a line out there."

She gazed up at him, though she couldn't see him, amused by his candor. She felt she owed him the same, and quickly turned serious for a moment. "Daryl, I think we should go to Washington."

"You do?" He was trying to hide the relief in his voice, but failing. He had wanted to go since the night Eugene mentioned it. They were supposed to have a vote on it the following morning, but then everything went to shit with Michonne being taken, and suddenly, Washington seemed to be on hold indefinitely.

She nodded against his chest somewhat nervously. "I don't wanna live in this grave," she intimated, referring to the hospital. "And I don't care about Eugene or saving the world or whatever else is happening. I just think it's the best chance we have at a life."

"Maybe so," he agreed, staring back up at the ceiling as he mulled over everything she'd just said. He wasn't sure how he would broach the subject with Rick, knowing that his only focus was Michonne at the moment. But he knew he would have to. It seemed like everyone agreed that Washington could be their shot at something more. "Maybe it's the way to savin' our souls."

* * *

Michonne was sitting in bed, wide awake, trying to enjoy the silence of her room. She missed silence. She hadn't had it since the last time she was out on the road alone, searching for The Governor. It would be scary sometimes, only having her thoughts to keep her company. But now? That was all she wanted.

She didn't want Rick outside her door, watching her every move, or lack thereof. She didn't want Carl worrying about her as he so sweetly tended to do. She didn't want the others asking their twenty questions about what had happened to her. She didn't want or need their sympathy. She was sick of hearing doors slamming and people laughing. Judith crying. Sasha and Daryl obviously fucking. She just wanted to be alone. With the silence.

Alone.

That's what she told Rick she wanted the night she was taken. She had been lying to herself then. Was she lying to herself now, too? She couldn't even tell anymore. She hated wallowing in her grief. Especially when she wasn't even sure what she was so sad about Or mad about. Rick had done a number on her heart, but that hospital had managed to crush her spirit. She'd promised herself and Joan that she wouldn't let them win, but it was starting to feel like they had.

Images of Gorman's face flashed through her mind. Fighting not to be taken. Then fighting not to be raped. Her mouth full of his blood. She could so clearly picture the way those women walked around the hospital in utter fear because of him. Because of Dawn. And that woman holding her at gunpoint, still spouting her nonsense about the greater good. They were all dead, and yet, she still felt so much anger. She could feel herself losing grip, and she wasn't sure why.

* * *

Outside the door, Rick was still waiting. For what, he wasn't sure, but he knew it hadn't come yet, and so, he couldn't leave. He sat there, staring at the walls. Then the floor. Then the walls again. His mind had drifted to thoughts of sleep when he heard a door open, and Carl's sleepy face came peeking into view.

Rick immediately looked at his watch, noting that it was nearly 3:00AM. "What are you doin' up?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he answered, dragging the chair from his room out into the hallway. "I thought you might need some company."

"I'm all right," he maintained for what felt like the hundredth time. "Besides, what about your sister?"

"She's safe," he promised, taking a seat. "It's you I'm worried about. And Michonne."

"Worried about in what way?"

"I mean… I guess I just wish I knew what was going on. Like, what happened to her here."

Rick wished he knew the same. But he could only shake his head. "We'll just have to wait for when she's ready to tell us. If she ever gets there."

"Is that why you're sitting out here?"

"I'm out here for a lot of reasons, son. But mostly, just in case."

"You don't want someone to take her again."

He glanced back into her room, as he often did, just to be sure she was still there, inadvertently answering Carl's question without saying a word.

"That night they took her," he went on, "I understand that you blame yourself for it in some way or another. But I don't think that's fair."

He couldn't help but stare at his ever-perceptive son, wondering what he could possibly know about it. "What makes you say that?"

"Because I know how scared you were. It was like when Mom died," he remembered sadly. He never wanted to see that look on his dad's face again, but it had somehow come back to haunt him. "I don't know. But I know I blamed you for that, when I shouldn't have. So I don't think you should blame yourself for this."

Rick's eyes flitted down towards the floor and he smiled ruefully at his boy. He obviously loved him more than anything, but he also truly cherished who he was becoming. "I appreciate that, son."

Carl nodded, hoping he'd made his dad feel a little better, at least. He hated seeing him and Michonne like this. It was like watching his parents fall apart all over again. He obviously didn't know everything about their relationship, but he understood enough to know that they'd probably been together for a while, and it sucked to watch it tear at the seams like this.

"Have you told her you love her yet?" he asked hopefully.

Rick looked up at him with a small chuckle. "Yes, I have."

"Did she say it back?"

"She… umm…" He nervously brushed at his eyebrow as his words trailed into silence. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Dad?"

"It's complicated," was all he could come up with in response. He then heard the sound of Michonne's footsteps and turned to see her coming towards the door.

Carl felt a wave of joy when she stepped into the hallway to join them. It was the first time he'd seen her in two days. "Hey, Michonne."

"Hey," she returned flatly. "You mind if I talk to your dad alone for a minute?"

His stark blue eyes searched her face, wishing he would finally find something different there. Something besides misery. "Whatever it is, you know you can say it in front of me. I'm here for you too, Michonne."

"I know," she tried to smile at him. "But I'd really rather just speak to him right now."

With a big sigh, Carl got up from his chair and headed for his own door. "You used to be the one person that didn't treat me like a kid," he told her seriously. "And now you've just shut me out. What happened to you?"

"Hey," Rick inserted with a frown as he stood from his seat. "You don't talk to her like that."

"It's fine," she said, still gazing at Carl. "And I'm not trying to treat you like a kid, or exclude you. But this one is between me and your dad. So if you wanna be treated like an adult, that comes with understanding that some things are none of your damn business."

He was taken aback by the fact that Michonne was being so blunt with him, but he said nothing else. He simply retreated into his room, leaving the adults to their discussion.

Rick was looking back at her, a bit surprised himself. Even he knew she had never spoken to Carl that way before. "You doin' okay?" he wondered.

Her face relayed boredom, inside, she felt like some sort of flame had been ignited, and she couldn't tell whether it was the good or bad kind of fire. "I dunno," she grimaced. "I dunno whether I wanna fuck you or fight you."

"Those are the only two options, huh."

"When you're at war..."

He smirked, remembering her saying that very thing the first time they ever had sex, that evening in the tombs. Had he known that night would turn to this... "So that's what you came out here to tell me? You wanna fight?"

"I came out here to tell you..." She shook her head as she glanced back into her empty room. "I don't know."

"Makes sense."

She rolled her eyes at herself before the words even came out of her mouth. But she no longer wanted to be alone with her thoughts. "Come in my room?"

His eyes darted up at her request, understanding that she wasn't asking to fight him. "Is that... is that a good idea?" he stuttered.

"It was fine four nights ago. Why wouldn't it be now?"

He caught the bite in her tone, and knew for sure that it wasn't. Her emotions were all over the place. "Why don't you get some rest," he declined diplomatically, taking a few steps away from her. "I'm sure there's an Ambien somewhere around here that would get you to sleep."

"I don't want drugs, Rick. I wanna fuck."

"Michonne."

She stared at him angrily, trying not to explode. All she wanted was to relieve some tension, and he couldn't even do that for her. "You are endlessly disappointing," she stated as if it were fact.

That one stung so hard, he nearly stumbled backward. Instead, he opened the door to her room and walked on in, taking a seat on her bed. She stood in the hallway watching. "Let's go," he called out to her.

She blinked a couple of times, trying to bat her tears away, and went inside, shutting the door behind her. She approached him slowly and deliberately, her fingers unzipping her vest as she moved. She kept her eyes on him and he didn't shy away from her gaze. They both had frowns on their faces, as if they weren't sure what was happening.

She pushed him backwards on the bed harshly, and climbed on top of him unhurriedly. Unsteadily. He could feel her quivering as she moved her hands up his torso to remove his shirt. He didn't make any movements himself, but instead, just followed her lead, allowing her to undress him. Her fingers trailed along his stomach until they reached the button of his jeans, and he noticed her take a deep breath.

"Michonne," he whispered, wanting to stop her. "You don't have to do this."

"Shut up," she retorted quickly. She couldn't be sure whether she was talking to him or the many emotions swirling around in her head. "Just… don't talk."

She went on to unbuckle his belt, but her fingers didn't seem to be cooperating. They fumbled with the worn leather, her hands shaking harder than ever. Rick wasn't going to press the issue – if this was what she needed, he would give it to her. But then the tears came, and he couldn't take it any longer. He gently rested his hands over hers, willing her to stop this self-torture. It was clear this wasn't what she wanted.

"Please stop," he softly pleaded, not releasing his grasp.

She quickly wiped her face before snatching her hands away, then went for his pants again. "I'm fine."

"This isn't 'fine,'" he knew. He repeated his action, grabbing her wrists this time to stop her. "I don't know what it is, but it's not fine."

"Let go of me."

"No," he refused angrily. "I'd rather fight than let you do this."

Her tears came harder now, more frustrated than ever. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but she hated the fact that he still wasn't willing to give it to her. Before she could stop herself, she pulled out of his grasp to punch him in the chest angrily. She climbed off of him and sat beside him on the bed. "You can leave."

"I don't wanna leave you like this."

"You don't have much of a choice, do you."

He sighed as he sat back up and pulled on his shirt again. "Look, I don't know why you decided to come and get me, and I'm guessing you probably don't either, but I'm not goin' anywhere. Not with you like this. So you can talk to me, you can ignore me, you can go to sleep. But you can't get rid of me."

Frowning, she stared out of the window ahead of them before replying, "I'm gonna go to sleep then."

He looked over at her in this odd state of numbness and nodded. "All right."

He picked himself up from the bed and stood near the window so that she could get settled.

She silently laid on her side, with her back towards Rick, clutching at her pillow as she let herself cry. It was a silent weep – the one she'd reserved for when she was alone. The one she felt in her throat, with tears so heavy, her eyes blurred. The one where she actually wanted to scream, but instead, held her breath and grabbed her stomach to keep quiet.

Before long, she felt Rick climb into bed with her. She was thankful he didn't speak, because there were no words that could have helped in that moment. Nothing better than the silence. But he wrapped his arms around her tightly, intertwined his fingers with hers, and he held her as she sobbed.


	19. Things Break, But They Can Still Grow

**19 – Things Break, But They Can Still Grow**

"Talk to me," Rick softly begged as he continued to hold Michonne protectively. The sun had come up, and they hadn't moved. She had thankfully stopped crying, but she still wouldn't speak. "Please."

She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to erase the images that haunted her. Why wouldn't they go away? "I'm so angry," she whispered hoarsely. "And I don't know why."

"It's okay to be angry. You should be."

"I don't wanna be," she sniffled. "But it won't go away."

"Because you've got it all pent up inside you," he said, moving his hand over her heart. "It'll just fester if you don't let it out."

"I don't wanna relive this."

"You're reliving it in your head," he knew. "Just talk to me. I'm here."

She took a deep breath and let her head fall back against his face. As much as she thought she didn't want him around, she felt so safe in his arms. Another reason she was so mad at him for abandoning her. "I'm still not sure how they got me," she finally intimated with a sniffle. "After you left… I gave myself a minute. I just cried for a minute and then I got up, went out towards the road so I could see better, and I was gonna head back for the church. But I remember running for some reason. Anger, maybe? Frustration. I don't know. But I just wanted to get to the road as soon as possible. And something felt so… I don't know… lonely when I got to it. It was so empty." She inhaled sharply again as he softly stroked her head. "I remember this overwhelming feeling of sadness in that moment. I guess because you leaving just reminded me that I have no one. I have no family left. You know, you have Carl, Sasha has Tyreese, Maggie has Glenn and Beth… I'm one of those without anyone."

"You have me," he said, hoping she would believe it. "Me and Carl and Judith… we're with you, Michonne."

"No," she shook her head. "You took them from me that night."

"I didn't."

"It felt like you did," she retorted as a fresh set of tears fell against her pillow. "And that's why I felt so sad. You reminded me that this… it isn't real. All you have to do is walk away and I'm alone again. I'm like a fucking orphan."

"Michonne, you have to know by now that this is your home," he said seriously, squeezing her hand. "We're your people, whether you and I are together or not."

"I know that now," she confirmed. She used her free fingers to wipe her face. "I knew it when they asked them my name and I gave them yours. But I was feeling sorry for myself that night."

"And you don't remember anything about how they took you?" he pressed. "Beth said they hit Sasha with their car."

"They might've hit me too," she shrugged against him. "I'm not sure. I just remember seeing a man and woman in dark clothing, and trying draw my katana. Obviously that didn't work," she simpered. "I have small flashes of things. One of them punching me. Slamming my hand against the car. I can't imagine I went down any way other than kicking and screaming. And before everything went black, I thought of you and I snatched off my necklace, hoping that would be enough for you to find me. That if you saw I didn't take my katana, and my necklace in the street, you would know I didn't leave on my own terms. That I didn't take the family albums."

He smiled sadly as he remembered explaining to her how he knew that Lori and Carl were all right. "You're a quick thinker," he marveled.

"Had to be."

She went on to explain how she woke up at Grady and the inane drama with Dawn and her officers. What they did to Joan, and why she immediately felt a connection to Noah. She told him about how Dr. Edwards seemed like a pretty good guy, and felt somewhat bad that she couldn't save him. But that he was complicit in so much of what went on, she wasn't sure if he deserved saving. But the biggest, most brutal thing that had happened to her, she couldn't bring herself to tell Rick. The situation with Gorman was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't let it out. Perhaps because she didn't want him to feel the same rage that she did. Or maybe she didn't want him to look at her differently. But she wanted to hold on to that one gruesome thread.

Rick, however, knew she was leaving out some part of the story. Noah had already informed him that she killed one of the officers herself, but he didn't miss the fact that she had been covered in blood the night they came in. He would have listened to her talk forever, but not if she was just going to say the things she thought he wanted to hear.

"What about the officer you had to kill," he decided to ask. There was no use in talking in circles.

Her grip on his hand tightened as she realized her secret was out. "What do you know about it?"

"I know you've got a face full of bruises and your shirt was covered in blood when I saw you. And it wasn't yours."

Her eyes closed again as she reveled in his touch. His warmth. She didn't say anything for a long time, trying to collect her rampant thoughts into words. Trying not to let her anger speak for her. And finally, she nodded, knowing she needed to let this out, too. "He tried to rape me," she whispered nearly inaudibly. She felt Rick nuzzle closer to her, his embrace tighter than ever. "The guy that took me. Gorman. Said he was gonna walk me outside… But I knew what it was before we even got down the hall. I probably knew what it was the second I met him, and just didn't take the time to really think about it. There was so much going on. But… he got me in that stairwell and I instantly realized I was gonna have to fight this man with everything I had. Or die trying." She felt a dampness on her neck and realized it was Rick's tears falling onto her. It took everything in her not to cry again. "Thanks to you, I didn't have to do too much fighting."

"Me?"

She nodded softly. "I had nothing to fight with. So while he was trying to take off my pants, I bit into his neck and I didn't let go until I felt his flesh in my mouth."

He lifted his head from the pillow to look at her face. To see if she was serious. He hoped not, as he knew just how horrific it was to kill Joe that way. He wouldn't have wanted her to go through that. But then, being raped would have been infinitely worse. He didn't know what to feel for her.

"I've never been so disgusted in all my life," she confirmed once he laid back down. "But he was either gonna die then or die later. And honestly, Rick, I'm not sure who I would be right now if I'd let that happen."

"It wouldn't have been about 'letting' it happen. Being attacked isn't something you can control."

"I know," she exhaled sharply. "And that's why I hated it so much. I had no control; I had no power. And I so desperately just want it back. I've always been that person – in control of my own choices, the direction I'm headed in. It's why I left the prison over and over again, so I could be on my own, where I was firmly in control of everything. And these fucking people," she said through gritted teeth. "They took that away from me."

"But they didn't," he offered in an attempt to be encouraging. "You're still here. They aren't."

"But I'm scared, and I'm angry, and I've completely lost control of… everything."

"Okay," he nodded understandingly. "They took your confidence. But there's no reason you can't come back from this."

Another rush of tears came up to the surface, and she pulled out of his embrace to sit up straight. "I'm so sick of being angry at you," she said, wiping her face. "But I don't know how to reel this in. I don't know how to keep facing disaster after disaster and keep smiling through it and pretending that I'm okay. That we're okay. This is not okay, Rick."

"It will be," he said, trying to comfort her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, but she instantly shrugged them off. So he left her be, and sat with his back to hers. "This isn't impossible, Michonne. It's not."

"How?" she pressed, staring blankly at the floor. "How am I supposed to still love you after all this?"

"Because you already do." It was his turn to sigh, exhausted by this fight. "Because I got there. Finally. You wanted me to catch up to you and your feelings, and now, here I am."

"Me?" she repeated incredulously. "I'm the one that caught feelings first?"

"That's not what I'm saying…"

"That's precisely what you said, when the fact is that you did all of this, Rick. You initiated this. You told me you didn't want me with anyone else. You got down on your knees and cried when you found me. How... I mean what did you think was gonna happen? Did you think our feelings would just… jog in place?"

He shook his head, even though she couldn't see him. "No."

"Then why would you fall in love with me and then run away?" That question plagued her more than any other, and he had yet to come up with a satisfying answer. "Being there for someone when they need you? That's all a relationship is. And somehow, you made me feel like I was asking for too much. When all I was asking for was you."

"And I'm sorry for that."

"And I'm sorry that it's too late," she returned quietly. "I can't do this with you."

"Fine," he said. He looked back at her nervously, knowing his tone was about to come off as combative. But he had nothing left to lose at that point. "I fucked up. I let you down. But I'm here now, aren't I?" He hopped up from his seat, needing to see her face. He came around to her side of the bed, and got down on his knees again, resting his hands on her lap. "Michonne, I'm here. And I'm willing to get in the dirt and cry with you and fight with you... whatever I have to do to make this right. Because you're right, I should've been there. I should've said the right thing. But I stumbled. I let pride get in the way of us. I fell flat on my face and I know that. But you have a part in this too, and that's to help me up when I fall. You have to be willing to fight for me too. Because if you let this define the rest of our lives? How does that make you any different than me?"

Her eyes were stinging from being so tired. Tired of being awake and tired of crying. But she couldn't take them off of him as she processed his passionate plea. Was he right? Was she failing them just as much as he had?

"When Hershel was alive," he went on when she didn't respond, "I told him about us. I told him that it was just sex, but I liked you. A lot. I told him how I hated when you were gone, because everything seemed a little bit darker. And every time you came back, I felt a little bit more complete. He noticed it too, that last time. When you came back after being away for a month? He said, 'You better be careful. It's starting to look a lot like love.' And I laughed, because I thought he was joking, but… he was right." He ran his fingers along her forearm, gently caressing the space just above her cast. "And I should've said it to you then, but I fell in love with you a long time ago, Michonne. And ever since you found me, losing you has been one of my greatest fears. You didn't deserve what I gave you. But there's no fucking way I'm walking away from you again."

She conjured up a genuine smile for the first time since the last time, and it turned into a small chuckle, realizing that she would have no choice but to accept his apology. He was literally on his knees, begging for forgiveness, when the reality was, he had already earned it. He hadn't given up, even when she had given him every reason to. "I'm in love with you too, Rick."

A stray tear rolled down his face as he brought her right hand to his lips to give it a kiss. Relief. "We're gonna be okay," he said softly. The two of them had said that many, many times before, to others and each other. But this was the first time he actually believed it. "Everything is gonna be okay."

"I hope you're right, Grimes. Because I'm not sure how much more I can take."

He didn't let go of her hand as he stared up into her eyes. "You're a diamond, Michonne. They can't break you."

"Shut up," she smiled again, trying to hold back her own tears. "And don't ever leave me again," she added. "You're not allowed to. Not even for death."

"I'm not sure I can make that promise," he chuckled.

"That's the only way I'm doing this. We're gonna go to Washington, and… I don't know what's gonna happen. But you don't get to die, and neither do I."

Their eyes locked on one another and he nodded, understanding that she was serious. That if they had any chance, they would have to put themselves out there, naked in all the things that scared them to death, and hope that they'd trusted the right person. And he would make that promise, if that's what she needed, to prove she was right to trust him. And he would keep it. "We don't die."

Michonne nodded back happily as she quietly came to the decision to give it another try. She had faced her biggest fears, and they'd practically kicked her ass. But Rick was right – she could come back from this. She  _would_ come back from this. She wasn't too far gone. She could stand up in her vulnerability. She would let him be her protection, and she would be his strength. The world would never stop testing them, but maybe they really would be okay if they had each other.

She let her hand rest on his cheek as she looked him in the eye and made him that very same promise. "We don't die."


	20. Coda

**20 – Coda**

Michonne sat at the front of the church bus as the group quietly drove through the dark, abandoned roads of South Carolina. It had already been a bumpy ride, quite literally, towards Washington, and they had no idea what to expect once they got there, but the important part was that they were getting there. She held onto a sleeping Judith, but her eyes were on Carl, also fast asleep, in the aisle across from her.

She'd felt the strain in their relationship since she snapped at him nearly a week prior, and she hated herself for it. He was easily her favorite person on that bus, and didn't deserve her ire. He'd been her confidante even when Rick wouldn't be. He wasn't only her best buddy, but he was her son, for all intents and purposes. She loved that kid.

She carefully maneuvered to the edge of her seat so that she was close enough to whisper to him. "Carl," she said, gently brushing his hair from his forehead.

He stirred quickly but quietly and looked up at Michonne, confused. "What's wrong?"

"I just wanted to say that I love you," she answered seriously, making sure to hold his gaze.

He sat up to face her, unsure of where that had come from. He knew as much, but it scared him that she was waking him up to say it. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she smiled, glancing down at Judith. "I just… need to make sure you know that."

"I've never doubted it," he assured her.

She smiled again, moved by his maturity. She was so busy trying to treat him like an adult, she forgot that he was actually becoming one. "What I said the other night was… I was angry. But not at you."

"I know," he nodded, changing positions so that they were knee to knee. "I haven't been holding that against you, if that's what you think."

"You sure about that?"

"I just wanted to give you space," he whispered back. "So you and my dad could work things out."

"We have." She instinctively looked toward the back of the bus, where Rick was talking to Sasha and Daryl. She noticed he looked confused, which amused her. But then focused in on Carl again. "We're fine."

"And we're fine too," he promised with those big blue innocent eyes. "I may not always say what I'm thinking. And maybe it's best if I don't sometimes," he smiled, "but I get things. And I get what you were going through had nothing to do with me."

"You promise you're not just saying what I wanna hear?"

"I promise." He held out his right pinky, waiting for her to do the same. As they locked fingers he added, "This is just ours."

"Pinky swearing?" she chuckled inaudibly.

"Yes. You can't share it with Judith, and you definitely can't share it with Dad."

She giggled out loud this time, relieved to find that they really were okay. "That's a deal," she confirmed, letting go of his finger. "Better yet? Anything we swear on stays between the two of us."

He liked the sound of that. Not that he had any intention of keeping secrets from his father, but he was learning that that was the nature of all relationships. Some things just stayed between a pair of people, and that was okay. He figured that was why his dad and Michonne had kept their relationship to themselves for so long. "Hey, Michonne?"

She noticed he had gotten contemplative for a moment, so she knew his next question would have little to do with their deal. "Yeah?"

"When we were at that cabin, and you said you loved my dad. And you said you didn't know if he loved you…" He looked down at the bus floor, suddenly somewhat unsure of himself.

"Yeah…" Michonne encouraged him to go on.

"Do you know now?"

She had to laugh, shaking her head at this kid in all his inquisitiveness. Even when she knew the question would come out of left field, she hadn't prepared herself for it. But luckily, the answer was easy this time around. "I have no doubt that he does."

* * *

"Are y'all sure about this?" Rick asked, staring across the aisle, between Sasha and Daryl. The two of them were smirking back at him, happily. "I mean, you confirmed it and all?"

"I took three tests," Sasha nodded slowly. "I didn't believe the first one, was still in a bit of denial with the second, so I took a confirmatory test to the confirmatory test."

He chuckled, not quite sure what to do with their news. He was happy for them, of course, but having been on the road with Lori throughout most of her pregnancy, he knew it would be a strain on the group. "I mean… congratulations," he finally offered awkwardly. "Seriously."

"It ain't the best time," Daryl submitted, knowing Rick probably felt the way he had way back when, "but we'll be all right."

"You will," Rick promised. "We'll make sure of it."

Daryl nodded back, understanding that Rick was with him, as always. "We ain't tellin' anybody else until later," he added. "But we figured you oughta know."

"I appreciate it," he replied quietly, then looked back at Sasha. It was a good thing she was a sniper, which meant she could stay out of direct harm, but still help the group. "You stay outta trouble, and I'll do my best not to put you in any."

"I think I can make that deal," she promised, looking back at her boyfriend. "And I know you're gonna tell Michonne. But just… not the whole group, okay?"

"I wasn't gonna tell her," he lied, glancing up towards the front of the bus, where she and Carl were thankfully conversing. "But all right."

She laughed as she began to dig into some fruit cocktail she'd saved from the church. "Nobody has time for your lies right now, Rick."

He was still smiling as he asked, "Speakin' of time, you know how far along you are?"

Daryl and Sasha glanced at one another before offering a shrug in reply. "Had to be back at the prison," Daryl surmised. "So two, three months, probably."

"All right then," Rick nodded with finality as he began to stand from his seat. He knew he had a lot to consider, with getting them to safety in Washington, but mostly, he was just happy for the two of them. He recalled Sasha saying that their relationship started similarly to his and Michonne's, and all he could think was that their good news signified better things ahead for his relationship as well. "I'm gonna go up here and tell Michonne," he joked, "but you two be careful back here."

"We will," Sasha grinned, watching him leave. She turned to Daryl with a gaze in her eyes full of nothing but love. "Well that was easy."

He looked back at her with an amused smirk on his face. "You thought it wouldn't be?"

"You never know with Rick."

With a chuckle, the two of them fell back into their seats, enjoying one another's warmth as they headed off toward their new destiny.

* * *

Rick quietly checked on each member of his group as he made his way back towards his immediate family at the front of the bus. Carol and Tyreese were playing cards. Beth and Glenn were asleep, across from Maggie and Bob, going through medical supplies. Noah, Rosita, and Tara were scrunched together, watching a movie, while Eugene sat at the very front, directly behind Abraham, their driver for the evening. Everyone was all right, finally.

He found himself grinning as he reached the spot between Michonne and Carl. "Hey," he greeted them, relieved to see that they were just as chummy as ever.

"What are you so happy about?" Carl wondered, looking up to see a rare smile adorning his father's face.

"Everything," he answered simply and honestly as he squeezed into the empty space beside Michonne. "What is there not to be happy about?"

"Well, for starters, we have no idea where we're going."

"Oh, hush," Michonne hit his knee and then looked back to Rick expectantly. "What's up?"

"Nothin'," he shrugged.

"You do have a stupid grin on your face, you know."

"Do I?"

Her eyes narrowed on him and her voice got so low, not even Carl could hear. "If you have a secret, you better spill it."

Amused, he gazed down at Judith, and then back at Michonne. "You can't tell anyone," he prefaced seriously.

"Who am I gonna tell?" she rolled her eyes.

"Not even Carl."

"I can hear you, you know," Carl inserted loudly, having scooted in closer to be in on the conversation.

"What did I  _just_  tell you," Michonne laughed, turning to discover him crouched on the floor just beneath her.

He shrugged playfully. "It looked like a family meeting."

"Just sit down," Rick relented, moving as close to the window as he could, allowing Michonne to huddle closer and give Carl some space on the seat. Once he was settled, he went on, "This stays between us, you hear me?"

They both nodded as Michonne retorted, "Spill it, Grimes."

He took a deep breath, and turned to make sure no one else was listening. "Sasha's pregnant."

"Shut up," she smiled brightly in reply. "They just told you?"

Rick nodded. "They just found out, right before we left the hospital."

"Wow…"

"Is this good, or bad?" Carl interjected, confused. He couldn't exactly see how this would end well for Sasha, given how his mom died. But then, they had Judith, which was inarguably a good thing.

"It's good," Rick answered quickly, but then looked at Michonne for confirmation. "Right?"

"It is," she nodded, frowning. "We can't stop living our lives just because we see a few obstacles in the road. We don't let the world keep us from being whoever we were meant to be." She looked between her boys, thankful that she was able to say that with full confidence. "It's gonna be rough," she assured them with a gravity to her tone, "but that's okay. Because no matter what's on the other side of this journey, they'll have a new life waiting for them. And so will we."

With a thoughtful smile, Rick rested his open hand on his lap, waiting for Michonne to take it. She did exactly that and held on tightly. "Maybe in Washington, we could have a baby, too," he suggested hopefully.

Carl looked at the two people he now knew as his parents, beaming at the idea. "I'd like that."

Holding Judith close to her chest, Michonne let her head rest against Rick's shoulder, and she closed her eyes contentedly when she felt Carl lean against her similarly. "I'd like that, too," she said softly.

She felt so full, sitting there with her family. Finally. It had been such a long road to get to this point, but in the end, it was worth the fight. Nights like this were why all those days alone were okay.

-End


End file.
